Just Like That
by Sierra-Jae
Summary: They were different, they knew that. Though, one desire plagued both of their minds, a desire that would change them in more ways than one.
1. Watching

He found her sitting on a swing in the park on a lovely spring evening and also, her seventeenth birthday.

He knew her name, her family and where she lived, but she was quiet and a little freaky and they didn't exactly hang with the same crowds. He was in Glee; she was in the Writers Club. He played football; she worked part time at the local library. He knew this because he watched her sometimes, from the corner of the library where he tutored the middle school students on Friday afternoons.

There in the library was where he discovered that she in fact wore glasses, that she loved the smell of old books and that when she tied her hair up in a ponytail, like she would often do two hours into her shift, she looked normal. She didn't look afraid and apprehensive, but she looked completely and utterly confident in whom she was.

He wanted to talk to her most of the time when he watched her in the library, but his minor obsession with her was enjoyable from a distance. They had spoken in middle school more than once, but she was nervous and he hated to admit it, but he found her a little bit boring. That was, until now.

He had been dating Terri for the last six months, and they had almost given themselves to each other three weeks before he had discovered that Emma Pillsbury spent her free time in the Young Adult Fiction and American History aisles. So naturally, wanting and needing to know how sex worked and how good it felt, sometimes he thought about Emma in ways that he shouldn't have, ways that left his pants tight and his lips dry.

She was pretty when she was a girl, but the more he watched her and the more confident she grew as an individual, he realised how beautiful she was. Her doll-like features made her stand out from all of the other girls and her hair radiated a kind of innocence that sometimes kept him awake at night, long after his mother had turned off the porch light.

It wasn't a stalker-like obsession that he had with her; that would have been sad. Still, Will couldn't resist the fact that he liked to see her walk by him in the hallways, or watch her return books to their rightful shelves. Maybe it was boredom in tutoring that brought it on, or maybe it was the testosterone that was running through his adolescent veins, but his fantasies that involved Emma Pillsbury were lovely and erotic. She wasn't the type he would usually go for, but now she was older and prettier and different to every other girl he knew and the mysterious qualities that she possessed made him desperately want her beneath him as he watched her, the rim of her glasses balancing delicately on her perfect nose.

And so, when he found her in the park on her seventeenth birthday, alone and hopeful, elegant and restless, he grasped the opportunity with his whole heart.

She was in love with him, or so she thought she was. She knew he watched her sometimes, and that made it all the more exciting, but when he spoke to her that evening as she rocked on the swing softly in her pale blue dress, startling her, she gave him a part of herself that she never knew existed.

"Hi, Emma." He was a confident boy, his head raised and his glance meeting hers beautifully.

"Hey, Will. How are you?" Her legs closed tightly and her back straightened in an attempt to return to a ladylike posture.

"Good. And yourself?" He took the swing next to her and returned the stunning smile that radiated from her sculpted features.

"I'm well, thank you." She bit her pink, lower lip and his mind travelled to a dark paradise.

"I don't see you so often anymore at school, Emma."

"No, but you see me in the library."

The way she said it, her knowing tone, it wasn't patronising and disgusted. She understood and she cared. Then he wondered if perhaps he wasn't the only one who was plagued by the need to be close to someone, another body that is desired so deeply.

He wouldn't find out it was her birthday on this very day for another year.

Sometimes, a year can change everything.


	2. Being

She wrote because she read and he spoke to her because he couldn't resist. He words collided in the place she felt safest, her sanctuary of knowledge; the library.

Emma had learnt a great deal from novels- values, morals and wisdom. The whole point of reading was to feel something so beautiful and deep and profound and once she began, she couldn't stop. It was an addiction, reading and writing, and she didn't want it to ever end. Her glasses were perhaps the only visible bruise of how she had been assaulted by literature. The dark frames hung low on her nose, tickling her nerves, reminding herself of the nights she would lie under her blankets in the dark as a young child with a flashlight and book in hand, damaging her eyesight. Learning was an experience all of its own and sometimes Emma wondered if experience truly and absolutely mattered.

Emma was special, just like Will, and this only reaffirmed the fact in his mind that their time apart was better spent together. They were worthy of each other and they deserved every happiness that they could provide themselves with.

Over the course of four months, they became close, very close. At first, it was small smiles exchanged as the sun went down outside the library windows as he taught fourth grade math and she stacked shelves. Then he would walk her out to her car and eventually, he began to drive her home. Some evenings he stayed for dinner with Emma's family and other evenings he left for a date with Terri. Though, most times he lied to Terri and drove Emma to the lake where they would talk about their friends and school and why she loved to write.

In the beginning, he felt like a powerful adult, creeping around with another girl in an affair like state, but then his feelings halted and they truly became best friends. He was still haunted in his fantasies and he never tried to stop them, but after he got to know her, they became less graphic and so loving.

She offered to help him tutor and he read her writing and gave her tips for plot, which she often crinkled her nose at. He was wonderful in English and quite terrible at math, which was ironic because most of his tutorials were middle school math. She teased that his brain refused to learn after middle school, but his brilliance in languages allowed for another bond to grow between them as they shared a passion for words.

He stayed at her house late on weekends, both of them sitting on the couch in her father's den sipping hot chocolate or listening to old records, and sometimes her parents joined them as they watched a classic movie. Often times her father would tease him playfully for adoring musicals, but he would brush it off and throw back a respectful, yet hilarious banter which would leave a smirk on Mr Pillsbury's face and his best friend in a fit of giggles. He never ventured into her bedroom, which would have been improper, though his parents weren't home most of the time, so she was always in his. So much could have happened, but nothing ever did.

She steered clear of Terri, especially on those days that Will told her things weren't so good. Sometimes Emma felt awful, like she was causing problems in his life, but she couldn't give up what they had. Will sheltered her from Terri's jealousy, but she knew exactly how Terri felt about her spending time with Will, only half of which Will confessed to Terri. Word travelled in high school, and without noticing, they began to avoid public places where they would be spotted.

They found their own spot by the lake, in a little bend of the pit that was green and secluded, where they often rested in the sun. Emma didn't have many friends and Will had so many that it was hard to keep track of, so he didn't bother to try. Life was easy for him and lonely for her, so their friendship played an incredibly important role in both of their lives. She enjoyed spending time with him, having a friend who never judged her or questioned her choices, and he loved her carefree, yet somewhat pessimistic, outlook.

He liked looking at her, too. As the weather became warmer, he was finding it harder and harder to take his glare away from her freckled, alabaster skin, and so he didn't. It wasn't perverted in the way that he would watch her after her eyes would slip closed, but it wasn't innocent. On a windy Tuesday afternoon, she had given into exhaustion, her body laid our languorously on the grass, and his eyes hand wandered over her growing curves, his hands itching to touch the small mounds on her chest.

They may have been best friends, but there was the constant reminder that there were barriers when it came to certain subjects, and that was why it came as such a surprise to him when she asked him the question so confidently on a Sunday afternoon.

"Have you slept with Terri, Will?"

"No."

"Okay."

Emma's frail body was spread out in the grass as he sat on a rock by the water, mindlessly sinking pebbles into the lake as far as he could.

"Do you want to sleep with Terri?"

"No. A little bit. Yeah." His arm swung back and propelled the tiny stone as far as he could, never knowing where it ended up.

She was cautious and curious in her next question, but she knew he would give her the answer she wanted. "Do you know what it feels like?"

"What?"

"Sex."

"No. Do you?" He knew she didn't, but he didn't want her to feel ashamed of all that she was yet to discover, so he returned the question with honesty.

"No."

They left it at that and the subject wasn't breached for another two weeks. During the first week, Emma's great aunt died and in the second week, Terri left for an interstate vacation with her parents. When James and Dana Pillsbury packed up for Virginia, Emma was made to stay at home under the care of her close neighbours, as she still had two more exams to sit and there was no point missing out on them when she had tried so hard.

Emma wasn't close to her aunt, Will knew that, but he also understood that she was lonely by herself and so when he invited her to stay at his house on Friday night; he thought he was doing the most generous thing in the world. She refused at first; she knew he had plans. There was a 'freedom' celebration party at a cheerleader's house to mark the last day of exams and as a football player, it was inevitable that he would be attending. And he did attend- with her.

She was proud and shy to walk in with him, to sit with him and to laugh with him while his friends spoke to her respectfully, knowing how important she was to their friend, while their girlfriends simply stared in disbelief and disgust. But for the most part, she was so proud and shy to leave with him at just 10pm, his hand on the small of her back as he opened the car door for her and shut it after her. They both knew exactly what everyone was thinking, and they thought it to, but her bed was made on a blow up mattress on the floor of his bedroom.

When they arrived home to his house, his parents were already asleep, not they cared very much about the sleeping arrangements. Given the type of young child Will used to be, anxious and self-conscious, the only thing Mrs Schuester wanted for her son was a true friend who would listen to him, and she found Emma Pillsbury to be just that. She was quiet and polite and sweet and never improper like Terri, whom Mrs Schuester secretly detested. Mr and Mrs Schuester were well aware of the type of girl that Emma was, that the relationship that Emma had with their son was strictly platonic and how important it was for Will and Emma to keep it that way.

The nature of their relationship didn't stop him from taking her hand as he led her up the stairs, though, nor did it cause him to let go when his bedroom door was closed behind them.

AN: Reviews make my day! Please let me know how you feel about this story. You opinion counts so very much!


	3. Tension

Tension settled in the pit of her stomach as she changed into her knee length nightgown in the bathroom. By the time she returned to the bedroom, he was already sitting up in bed in a white t-shirt and grey striped boxers, waiting for her. She imagined a different type of scenario; a scenario that had them naked under his pale blue sheets and his navy duvet; though she quickly erased the illustration from her encyclopaedia of desires. When the lights went out and she was safe under the covers of her makeshift bed and he was content to lie there wide awake, he asked for her attention.

"Hey, Em..."

"Yeah?" Her whispered acknowledgement of his low call to her was unexpected on his part. They had talked well into the night and had silenced themselves after midnight when the wind had picked up outside and the lights began to flicker.

"There's been something that I've wanted to tell you about..."

He could hear more than see her turn over and rest on her elbows in the darkness, though a thin line of moonlight seeped between his curtains and lit up one side of her face and her mess of red curls. "What's that?"

He swallowed silently as he picked at the corner of his pillow in embarrassment and hope. "You know the other day when you asked me what sex was like?"

"Yeah?" she answered in an awkward tone, reaching up to tuck a ringlet behind her ear.

His response was quiet and partially pointless. "Well I kind of know..."

She sat up slowly, the uncomfortable tension receding back into their relationship; a tension that she didn't understand yet somewhat welcomed.

"You do?" she questioned sorrowfully, embarrassed that she was no longer on the same level as him in that respect, though glad to have a friend with sexual experience.

"Not sex. But stuff. I know what stuff feels like." He was growing confident in his explanation, his whispers becoming more direct.

"Like what?" She was jealous and curious and humiliated by her innocence.

He sighed in the darkness, running a hand through his hair as he sat up against the headboard."Is this too weird?"

"No," her whisper held a tone of certainty that she was struck by as she responded. "I want to know."

"Okay. Umm..." He scratched the back of his head in thought more than embarrassment, as he shared with his best friend a tale of sensuality. "Well sometimes Terri and I touch and stuff, you know. And it feels good, I guess."

"Oh." She didn't know if she was disappointed or relieved by his confession, but she knew she was jealous.

"Yeah," his agreement was drawn out. "I just wanted to tell you. You know, in case you find out from someone."

She shook her head in question. _Did he think she asked about him at school? "_How would I find out?"

From her place on the floor, she could see him clearly, his face lit by the stream of moonlight that acted as a torch of honesty. He shrugged, "Word travels I guess..."

Her mouth opened in shock horror. "You mean Terri tells people stuff like that?"

"Her friends, I guess..."

"That's kind of rude of her, Will." The statement was blunt and honest and he loved her for it.

"It's okay."

She shook her head vehemently without though as the words spilled from her lips. "If we were close like that I would never tell anyone."

Silence interrupted before he whispered a reply with a smile upon his lips. "I know you wouldn't."

"I mean, it would just be too sacred to go gossiping about." Her hands wavered in the air wildly as her soft explanation grew passionate.

"You think it would be sacred if we touched each other?" he whispered carefully.

Her face grew crimson at his words and she could feel the redness seeping over her neck. It had been so long since she had wanted him as more than a friend and while their relationship had grown, honesty had been discovered. As this value grew more important to the both of them in every aspect of their relationship, her romantic feelings towards him had taken a backseat to her platonic love for her best friend.

"Yes."

His next question caused her heart to pound beneath her ribcage for the first time that night and the first time with him. "Have you ever been touched, Emma?"

"No." She didn't know if she was pathetic or proud.

He was curious about her; her thoughts and worries, her desires and dreams. "Do you ever wonder what it feels like?"

"All of the time..." His boxers tented slightly at her response and he willed himself to get a grip as her answer travelled into a lonely silence.

"I could touch you," he offered sincerely. "You know, if you wanted me to. I mean, I would like to. You know, to touch you."

His mind was wild with erotic images, though she was simply surprised by his admission. "You want to touch me?"

His retort was loving and ignorant. "Do you want to know what it feels like?"

She bit her lower lip in the darkness. "Yes."

"Okay."

They sat there in the silent darkness, neither knowing where to take their decisions.

"Umm, so just lie down and come under the covers..." he started awkwardly.

"Okay." She did as he instructed, her eyes focused on the space she was to lie beside him on the mattress and her heart rate picked up as she stood and slipped under the covers. She could feel the heat coming from Will's muscular frame as her own slim body rested next to his, and then his hand came to rest on her knee. She was pleasantly paralysed with excitement and apprehension as his actions were hidden in the darkness. If his parents were to enter at that very moment, they would appear to simply be resting innocently together. As the darkness and silence surrounded them, Emma knew that the house was asleep, and she took comfort in this gift of privacy.

She wasn't nervous, but as his hand travelled over her naked thigh, bunching up the white fabric, she couldn't help but feel guilty.

"Will, wait!" Apprehension and excitement framed her features as his shaking hands left her bare skin and settled on her petite waist. "Only over our nightclothes, right?"

"Sure."

His hands moved over her torso, sweeping the fabric with him and he breathed in deeply as she exhaled in pleasure. He grinned down at her nervously and as her lips twitched into a smile, his was lost as his features were painted serious. His palm flattened low on her abdomen and her eyelids slipped closed in pleasure, letting herself give into the boy who she had already given so much of herself to.

"Will, are you sure we should be doing this?"

Her long, wild red ringlets were spread over his pale blue pillowcase as his hands travelled over her cotton clad breasts slowly as he leaned over her, his knees straddling her thighs. She could feel his arousal pressing into her, prompting the query that was voiced with a note of her own sexual excitement.

"Does it make you feel good?"

"Yes, yes." A moan escaped from her lips as heat pooled between her legs and she clamped them together.

"It's only touching, Emma. We aren't doing anything wrong."

A whimper escaped her lips as his fingers ghosted over her nipple, knowing he could feel it over her braless chest. The pressure of his hips settled between her legs and the light brush of the pad of his fingers on her tiny breasts made her hips buck and his eyes widen. His eyes were locked onto her chest, his tongue slipping out to wet his dry lips as her eyelids slipped shut and she willed her lower body not to move again in such an unladylike manner. Nobody had ever made her feel this way and to feel her best friend so closely was nothing short of a dream.

"Is this what you do with Terri?" she whispered as his palm flattened between her breasts, stroking the underside of her right breast with his thumb as he met the curious and innocent gaze of his best friend.

"Umm, sometimes." His eyes left hers hastily as he dragged his hands over her chest gently, cupping her breasts again and marvelling at how they felt in his hands.

"It's different with Terri."

He was distracted by the adolescent contours of her body as she continued her interview. "How is it different?"

"We don't talk..."

"Oh."

"And we aren't wearing our nightclothes..." he trailed off without proper explanation, allowing her mind to wander.

"Oh." Her last reply was more of a sigh than a response as his fingertips trailed over her neck and the palm of his other hand flattened over the top of her thigh.

Their eyes locked sweetly as her tongue peeked out in anxiety at his next admission. "You can touch me, too."

Emma's eyes travelled down to the space between them as he leant over her, seeing his tented boxers for the first time. "Umm, okay."

She ran her palm along his stomach and to his waist, her fingers leading the trail and burning lines across his pelvis. She wasn't sure what he meant exactly, and her uncertainty led her to her next question.

"Like this?

When she saw his eyes hooded, she recognised for the very first time an emotion present in the room that wasn't supposed to be there. His groan was loud as his hips jolted into hers and her eyes widened in fear.

"Shhh, Will. Your parents."

"Please, just touch me, Em," he begged with a groan as his hands travelled down over her back and caressed her behind so lovingly.

Her fingernails raked up his strong back as she whispered hotly, "I am."

He gave up all the resistance that he had and let himself rest his body upon hers, relieving some of the pressure in his now tented boxers.

He buried his face in her neck, her curls tickling his nose as he breathed in her scent so completely.

"Will, I don't think we should be doing this." She wasn't afraid of him by any means, but she was afraid of losing him as her best friend.

His breath was hot in her neck as his body stilled completely and he held her to him tightly. "Please just let me make you feel good for a moment."

The room was silent but for their panting as she softly whispered her agreement, "Just for a moment."

His hips rocked into hers slowly and she could feel his length through his boxers that were pressed so completely between her legs, touching her dampened panties with each thrust. Their most secret places rubbed together in the darkness of the night, her white virginal nightgown bunched up around her slender hips as he moved so artlessly between her legs.

"Oh, Will..." Her sigh was filled with pleasure as she panted into his ear when his length rubbed against her sensitive nub. He threw himself off her as quickly as he could at the moment he felt his pleasure reach a height that would have left him in a very embarrassing situation.

He knew her face was flushed in the darkness as he muttered a grim apology. "I'm sorry. I'll be back in a second."

He closed the bedroom door behind him and she rested back against the pillows in arousal and disappointment. It had felt so good to be close to him in that way and she wanted more.

When he returned, he was relaxed and relieved and she couldn't help but feel a little jealous, knowing exactly why he had left.

His sudden shame sobered her somewhat and she knew he felt responsible for what had happened and she didn't want that for him by any means.

"Will?"

"Yes?" she knew his gaze was fixed on the floor when she called his name.

"Can we go to sleep now?" she whispered faintly and lovingly.

"Sure." He breathed a sigh of relief and she felt him move towards the bed, waiting for her to lift her body from the mattress.

"Can I sleep in your bed?" she smiled.

"Sure."

AN: Let me know how you feel about this chapter and if you are liking the story so far and all that jazz. Thank you so much for reviewing!


	4. Thought

Emma couldn't think straight.

It had been four days since she had felt such wonderful pleasure with her best friend and now everything had changed. His girlfriend was back from her trip and her parents had returned home, and he hadn't seen her after 'the morning after'. He missed her and she missed him and they both missed the loving art of bodies rocking together so sweetly, as they coaxed their minds to sleep every night. She had been blissfully unaware about how good it would all feel when the time came and now she couldn't stop thinking about it; about him. Emma wasn't oblivious to her desires, though she was naive and innocent and scared. She had been comfortable with her best friend, desired even, but she knew his feelings for her were more than platonic and she had trouble fathoming where she fit into his life exactly.

He woke four days ago to find her in his arms as his body curled around hers from behind. She had pushed her lower back into his 'morning glory' in her unconsciousness and he had almost choked on his breath. He wanted to leave Terri for her at the crack of dawn, but with the additional time he began to spend with Terri after she arrived home and the less time he spent with Emma, things began to change. Emma became distant and more nervous every time he would see her in the halfway and he hadn't yet had a proper opportunity to discuss what had happened with her for the last four days.

As his five pm tutorial with Damien Blake ended at six, he found her waiting for him on the stone bench outside the library on Friday, the sun going down and lighting her red ringlets in the most angelic manner. She turned to smile at him nervously as he returned the gesture, though his lopsided grin faltered as she broke the silence.

"Are you going to take Terri out tonight?" Her curious and pleasant tone upset him as she searched her mind for the first question to ask.

He shook his head slowly as he moved closer to the bench and lowered his tone. "No, I'm taking you out tonight. I thought we could go to the lake."

Emma's eyes drifted to the hem of her skirt as she fingered the edge. "I don't know, Will. It's late."

He raised his eyebrows and sat down next to her, willing her eyes to meet his."We leave for the lake at this time most Fridays, Emma."

She captured her lower lip between her teeth and met his gaze as her eyes displayed her anxiety so clearly. "I know. But it's too late now."

He hated how self-conscious she had become and he wanted to amend all of his faults as he pleaded with her through his eyes and words. "No, it isn't."

"Will-"

"We need to talk about this, Em."

"Okay."

The sun had almost set when they reached the lake and his mind raced with inappropriate thoughts as he felt her walk beside him so closely in the afternoon glow. When she was seated beside him on the grass he held her hand and she rested her head on his shoulder. The tension between them was mellow and so loving and he didn't know what to say because he wasn't sorry and all he was sure of was the fact that he wanted to watch her lids close in pleasure every night for the rest of his life.

"I'm so embarrassed and I can't stop thinking about it, Will," She sighed against his shoulder.

He swallowed his nervousness and the growing lump in his throat tightened. "Me either."

"I didn't know I would feel like that..." Her thumb traced circles over the back of his hand and his heart ached because he had never been so scared in his life. She was oblivious to everything and she expected him to pick up the pieces of her broken knowledge, but he barely understood sex himself.

His concern for her shook his voice. "Were you okay? You know, after? When we went to sleep?"

She shook her head against his shoulder softly as she stretched her legs out before herself and his gaze fixed itself on her calf muscles."I was fine..."

"Good. I thought about it later and I was worried that you had regrets. I don't want you to regret the first time you were touched by somebody like that because-"

"I don't regret it."

He couldn't stop staring at her legs. He knew just how soft the pale skin felt beneath his palm and he wanted nothing more than to touch the curves, kiss the freckles, lick her skin.

"Good." His smile was genuine as he shook away the distraction when she raised her eyes to meet his, her curls no longer tickling his neck.

Her eyes were locked on his when she queried in interest and inexperience, "Did I make you feel good, Will?"

He blushed profusely. "Yes."

She brought her legs beneath her pale yellow skirt as she parted her lips. "Will, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Her tongue snuck out to wet her flesh and his pants tightened, so he brought his knees to his chest. "A few weeks ago the girls at school were talking about umm...touching."

"Touching who?" he quirked an eyebrow.

Her whisper was soft and blunt. "Themselves."

"Oh."His nod was uncomfortable as he listened to her breathing

"I was wondering if I..." she trailed off, looking out to the edge of the lake.

His gaze was fixed on the grass between his knees, his focus on her whispers alone. "Just ask me, Em."

Darkness was beginning to set in as she allowed her body to rest upon the grass, her chest pressed up towards the dark blue sky. "I was wondering if it's weird that I don't..."

"You don't touch yourself?" he was astounded by her admission and many of his fantasies were diminished in that moment. He had dreamt of quiet and demure Emma, her hands in her panties as she lies still in the dead of night, bringing herself to pleasure he had never ventured to with her.

Her eyes met his as her confidence grew. "No."

"Oh." His response showed little expression and his gaze bore into hers passionately.

She squeezed his hand before she panicked, "Is that weird?"

"No, of course not." Her features grew sceptical at his words.

"Are you sure?" Emma questioned, somewhat humiliated.

"Yes. You don't have to do things that you aren't comfortable with, Emma."

"I am comfortable with it, Will."

"You are?" His palm was becoming sweaty in hers as her confession opened a litany of opportunities for him.

"Yes," she sighed dramatically, the hand that wasn't in his reaching up to run wildly through the curls at the top of her head. "I just don't know how to do it so it feels good." Her emphasis on the last word brought erotic illustrations to the forefront of his mind, images of her eyes rolling back into her head as she sighed in arousal and frustration.

"Oh."

Her fingers wiggled in his grasp playfully as she asked in all sincerity, "Do you know?"

"Umm..." He softly removed his hand from her grip and her head lolled to the side to examine his body language. "Em, I don't think that we should talk about this..."

Emma sat up on her elbows slowly as she apologised. "Sorry. I just wanted to know and I don't have anybody else to ask and boys always know so much about this kind of stuff..."

"That's okay," he nodded with an understanding smile as she sat up close to him. "I would want to know, too."

"So you touch yourself?" her words were barely audible and incredibly inappropriate. Their gazes were locked on the earth beneath them, and he could feel her curls on his skin as they floated in the wind.

"Emma-".Will turned his head to see his best friend, her eyes locked on the blades of green between her legs.

She nodded as he ran a hand through his equally messy curls. "That's okay. You don't have to tell me. I shouldn't have brought it up..."

His words fell from his lips before he could catch them. "I do."

"You what?"

"I touch myself."

"Oh." In the moonlight he could see her cheeks redden as her fingers reached up to tuck a ringlet behind her ear.

"Yeah."

Her next question needed such detailed explanation, though she did not receive such a response. "Does it feel better than what we did together?"

"It's different." He confided.

"Okay." Her lack of understanding was apparent as she bit her lower lip in question of her sexual confidence.

He leaned over to place a soft kiss on her temple, a loving gesture that he couldn't stop making. "I'm sure you'll figure it out, Emma." His whisper was soft and hot on her porcelain skin and she sighed in pleasure as his lips hovered.

"What if I don't?" At her question, he buried his face in her neck, knowing full well that they were far too close for comfort.

He breathed in her feminine scent, making him dizzy as he spoke, "You will. Everyone does."

Her eyes slipped shut as the desires that had plagued her mind all week boiled over a cliff of innocence. "If I can't, do you think you could show me how to?"

He swallowed. "I'm dating Terri, Em."

"I know, I just thought that maybe you could just show me how to...just once."

As her fingers tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck, he rested his lips on the skin of her delicate neck, knowing that, just once, he would touch her in a way that she have never been touched before.


	5. Sensation

At five pm, she was stacking books and watching him laugh with his middle school student as they huddled over textbooks. At six pm, she was in his car as they drove to the lake, isolated and sweet. At seven pm, they were holding hands and she was whispering her darkest concerns, and at eight pm, his head rested on her abdomen as her breathing evened out and her long, delicate fingers ran through his messy curls.

"Do you want me to touch you when I show you how to?" he had asked when she had questioned every desire that flooded her thoughts.

She watched his reaction clearly as she muttered her honest desire, "Yes."

"Over clothes?" Will asked softly.

Her tone was soft and direct, "No, properly."

"Oh." At the silence after his understanding response, her eyes widened expectantly, her pupils dilating in nervousness. His eyes met hers and realisation dawned upon him as darkness set in, "Now?"

Her answer was quick, the volume rising in her voice as she pleaded, "Yes, please."

"Okay." His submissive answer was comprised of uncertainty and wonder and the thought that he was about to touch Emma Pillsbury, to feel her and know her in the most intimate way, scared him as much as it excited him.

They both had no idea what they were doing. He knew the basics of sex and how to get pleasure out of it for both sexes, but he didn't want to do anything to her or with her that would destroy who they both were. She grasped his trembling hand in hers and placed it gently at the hem of her skirt as blood flowed to his nether regions.

"Go ahead, Will." Her hand rested over his as he caressed her flesh with the pads of his fingertips.

He hesitated and licked his lips, his heart pounding beneath his rib cage, "I'm just not really sure how to exactly." His fingertips caressed her soft skin and he watched the movement of his fingers, jealous of the courage that they possessed.

"Can you just try?" she smiled in apprehension and uncertainty, her tone desperate and her body craving release that she didn't know existed.

"Okay," he agreed, convincing himself more than Emma.

His hand crept slowly up her creamy thigh and she rested back on the grass, her sigh loud and sexy in the darkness. He moved his body to lie beside her, his hips pressing gently into the side of her body. His eyes widened as hers slipped shut, his palm curving over the plain of her leg muscles. She was beautiful and aroused and he couldn't think straight as the leg his hand rested upon bent at the knee, causing his fingers to slip over her skin closer to her core. Her free hand travelled down and gripped the edge of her skirt, pulling it up to her waist as her eyes scrunched shut in her embarrassment. Her white cotton panties gleamed in the darkness and his eyes bore into her exposed flesh, the tops of her creamy thighs travelling to a place he wanted to bury himself in. As his hand hovered over her core, her hand furthest from his body reached up and fisted in her auburn curls as her head lolled to the side. He could feel the heat radiating from her centre and he wanted very much to touch her as her hand that wasn't fisted in her hair rested on his forearm that held him above the ground. He watched her features contort as his middle finger trailed over her panties softly, tracing lines over the dampened material.

"Am I doing it right?"

"I don't know," she sighed in pleasure, her legs falling apart as her body language contradicted her response.

"How does it feel?" he breathed over her face sweetly, shifting his hips as his own arousal proved uncomfortable.

"It feels hot," she panted as her chest heaved.

When he flattened his palm against her, he felt a rush of wet heat coat the fabric and his eyes slipped closed as she sat up in panic.

"Oh god." Her hand stilled his against her, holding his fingers against white cotton.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know." Emma drew in a deep breath, looking down between her legs where the palm of his hand rested, flush against her most secret place.

Realisation dawned upon him as he pushed his palm into the soaked material, rubbing his thumb against her skin at the line of her panties comfortingly. "No, that's supposed to happen, Em."

"It is?" she questioned softly, innocently.

His voice was hoarse with need. "Yeah."

Her eyes were distant as relief flooded her mind, her pleasured senses. "Oh."

"Lie back down."

She did as he gently commanded, watching him as he observed the movement of his hand. He kept a slow pace for a long time, watching her squirm, making her whimper, and then his eyes became dark and needy and he couldn't stop himself from moving his fingers faster and furiously against her.

"That feels good, doesn't it?" Will questioned Emma teasingly as his fingers increased their speed, almost burning a hole through the white cotton as her eyes widened in shock and complete excitement as she pushed her core against his hand.

"Don't stop, Will." Her flowing skirt was pooled around her hips and he could see and hear and feel _everything;_ if he leant close enough to her lower body, he could smell her, too.

"This is where you touch, Emma." He lowered the pressure of his finger, rubbing slow circles around her bundle of nerves, as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. "Touch here and it will always feel good."

"Yes, yes." Her hips bucked off the ground as his fingers once again rubbed furiously at her clit over her panties, the circular motion clouding her mind as her stomach tightened in ultimate pleasure.

"Will, take my panties off." Her breathing was heavy and filled with lust as her hips swivelled in frustration and her clit burned pleasurably.

"Are you sure?" his fingers already had them mid-thigh before the words had a chance to leave his lips.

"Yes, yes, put your fingers inside me." Her hips bucked furiously in the air and his arousal pressed against her side.

He slipped her panties down to her knees nervously, his body stiff in anticipation of her release and guilt in wanting to make his best friend so very blissful. Mostly, he wanted to watch her come and he knew it was wrong.

She moaned quietly as his palm flattened over her bundle of nerves and he slipped two fingers inside of her heat. He watched her bite her lip for a moment, but when her eyes flew open, he couldn't watch her go over; felt he didn't deserve to watch her in her most secret moment. He laid his head on her abdomen as her fingers fisted in his curls almost harshly, gripping onto the boy who was pleasuring her so artfully, for dear life.

He circled his palm over her sensitive nub as her eyes widened and her nerves exploded, her insides contracting around his elegant fingers that were deep inside of her, stretching her centre in the most pleasurable way. The contractions of her muscles gripped his fingers in tight spasms and her mouth fell open as choked whimpers fell from her lips, his name in broken syllables.

He placed kisses over her clothed abdomen as her grip loosened in his hair and the throbbing of her insides slowed. His breathing was harsh on her body, his head a dead weight as she tried to regain her composure in the stillness of the night.

She was terrified and so, tears began to fall, unbeknownst to the boy who had just brought her to orgasm for the first time in her life. She swatted at her cheeks with the hand that wasn't nestled in his curls and the tears stopped as she cursed at herself for being so reckless and needy.

"Emma?" he whispered from his resting place on her body.

"Yes?" she asked as he reached down to slip her panties up to her swollen core.

He averted his gaze from hers as he asked, "One day, can I watch your face when you come?"

Her face was flushed, though not at his words. "Why?"

"I just really want to see what you look like," he uttered the confession to the darkness.

Her mumbled response was low and obvious. "You could have looked then, Will."

He shook his head adamantly. "No, that's not right."

"I wouldn't have minded," she whispered softly in honesty.

"I would have."

AN: My grin is never as wide as it is when I read your reviews! Thank you so much!


	6. Awakening

Will was in love with Emma, and so he left Terri. It was brutal and selfish, but for a month his mind was plagued with thoughts of his best friend, her auburn curls spread out on his pillow as his body laid upon hers. Will thought about holding Emma's hand without guilt, walking with her to school, taking her to get ice cream and swimming with her in the lake. They had already done so many of these things, but now they were free to enjoy the moments without guilt or inappropriate desire haunting their minds.

Will didn't tell Emma that he broke up with Terri for her for six days, and it was the hardest secret he had ever had to keep. He wanted to make the red head feel loved and cherished and beautiful, but he couldn't let Emma know he had left another girl for her a moment after he had experienced so much more with Emma; it was wrong and tacky and he didn't want that.

Emma was more relaxed with him after he had given her his gift of touch that day by the lake. Her features lit up so completely when he smiled at her in the hallways or climbed up to her bedroom window on his way home from late night soccer with his friend Adam. They were relaxed and their relationship had returned to what it used to be, easy, special and to be admired. She didn't even notice that his visits became longer and more frequent the very day that he broke up with Terri. Will refrained from touching her as best he could, and she didn't ask him anymore questions. What had seemed to have been an obsession for her diminished and she became preoccupied with writing again, a talent she had placed aside after the events that took place in his bedroom. Her motivations were strong and she caught herself slipping pages of witty and profound fiction through the slits in his locker as she made her way to English. They hadn't been back to the lake since the day her body had laid sated on the grass and his had rested comfortingly beside hers, nor did they talk about what had happened, but he liked to imagine that his skills in pleasuring her had resulted in her own awakening and self-discovery.

So, he didn't touch her, but when he took her for ice cream on a hot summer's night, one week since his hands had been inside her panties, he couldn't help but watch her wet, pink tongue curl around the melting vanilla cream. She spoke about a film that she had seen, laughing as she recalled the absurd situation that the two male characters had found themselves in and he grasped her hand and told her to 'shush' for a second. Her eyes had searched his for reason as a grin reached her eyes and he told her that he was free from Terri, free to be with her.

Her eyes had darkened, shame and fear creeping across her features. "Will, I don't know if we would be good together like that..."

"Of course we would be, Emma. We already are." His grin was wide and triumphant.

"Will, I don't know why you did that..." she pulled at the low neckline of her peach dress uncomfortably in the heat and he watched her hand as she looked at the ground nervously.

"Yes, you do." His encouragement and understanding frightened her young mind, making her heart race pleasantly.

"Will..."she shook her head adamantly, her curly hair framing her face as the humidity touched her pale skin.

"Relax, Emma." He pulled her into him at her panicked expression, his arms snaking around her shoulder blades and slipping to lower to her waist. "This doesn't have to happen right away. I'm just saying that now it can, without anybody else to worry about hurting."

She spoke up guiltily, "Will, we wouldn't have done anything else."

"We would have tried," he reasoned, burying his face in the curls at the top of her head.

"Maybe not..." she trailed off ambivalently.

"I would have."

"Oh." Realisation dawned upon her as his hips pushed into hers and she felt his strong body against her petite frame. And she was happy with his decision, although her excitement was masked by fear.

His voice was husky in her ear as he whispered, "It's only early, let's go to our spot."

Maybe it was because his breath had been warm and wet on the curve of her ear when he whispered his request. Perhaps it was the way his hips jutted into hers in the middle of the lonely main street, but Emma didn't hesitate as he dragged her down the path that lead to the bend of the body of water with determination.

When they stopped in serenity, he slipped his shoes off quickly and she did the same, unsure, though matching his pace until she turned around and his t-shirt was halfway over his head.

"What are you doing?" Her eyes widened as she was taken aback by his forwardness glancing around quickly to make sure no one was watching them, knowing that they were completely alone.

"I'm going swimming," he told her, his tone indicating obviousness.

"Oh." She blushed as his bare torso was revealed to her and she discovered that her reasons for her jealousy of Terri had great purpose.

"Then you're going to be all wet..." she waved her hands in the air in anxiety and reason.

"It's really hot, Em," he chuckled patronisingly. "I'm sure I won't mind."

His denim shirts fell to his ankles. "Are you coming?" He didn't wait for her, walking directly to the water's edge.

Her tone was cautious and contemplative, "I don't know, Will..."

"Come on, the water is really cool," he encouraged as he soaked his boxers, the water level rising to his hips before he was two metres in.

She scrunched her nose up in disgust. "But I'll get my clothes all wet..." she muttered from her safe place on the patch of grass before the water.

"Take them off..." he called as he sunk his whole body completely, bobbing up from the surface a moment later with a handsome smile.

She turned to look into the humid darkness as she reasoned, "What if someone sees?"

He shook his head at her question, his tone condescending and hopeful. "No one will see, Em."

"Are you sure?" she hesitated on the brink of giving in.

"I promise." He shook the water from his wavy curls, walking further out into the lake.

"Okay." He couldn't hear her response, so her confirmation was purposefully for herself.

She removed her dress quickly, muttering under her breath about regrets as the dress fell to her ankles and she covered her naked chest with her freckled arms, her pale purple panties not yet noticed by Will.

"It's all muddy, Will," she complained matter-of-factly as she reached the edge of the water, her long legs stiff in discomfort.

"It's a lake, Emma." His eyes met hers, a grin plastered across his lake as he bobbed his head under water again. He hadn't even seemed to have recognised the fact that the girl of his dreams was practically bare before him, and she adored that realisation as it dawned upon her.

"Will, it feels really gross..." she whined softly, her toes sinking into slush.

He moved slowly out of the water like a god, droplets of water rolling down his bare chest, over his abdominal muscles that she was seeing for the first time and to the waistband of his silky boxers. "Here, let me help you."

Her features were thankful as his own graced over with sincerity, but before she had time to comprehend what was happening, his arms were around her and dunking them both in the water, her wild red ringlets saturated as her bare back pressed against his beneath the water.

Emma stood in shock, her lips open as she fought for breath and his arms curled around her from behind, turning her waist until she faced him. His laughter was loud and boisterous as she fell into him in the waist high water, her nipples pressed against his chest as he held her to him, her own laughter dying down as she felt his erection press against her completely. She glanced down slowly between them, pressing her lower half even closer to his, wanting to give him so much more but not knowing how to. His hands travelled up from her waist, cupping her breasts as the July heat warmed their torsos. His thumbs caressed her nipples softly as their eyes locked, seriousness consuming their senses and making them whole again.

"You're so beautiful, Em."

Her fingers trailed across his torso, his skin smooth beneath her fingertips, passion in her eyes.

"So are you." His fingers worked magically against her tiny breasts as she pressed her hips closer again beneath the water, her hands running up and down his chest rhythmically as her chest heaved, her eyes drowning in his.

"Kiss me, Emma."

Her lips found his as her legs wrapped around his waist, bringing herself up to his level as his palms caressed her body, removing themselves from her chest and drawing a path from her sternum to her neck. Finally, Will cupped her face in his hands as their lips moved together and she parted her own, allowing his tongue to tangle with her own as she moved against him in the water, a feather weight as her hands cupped themselves behind his neck and his travelled over her naked body. Her long, wet hair stuck to her back as his fingers tangled in the strands passionately, pulling her harder against him.

The moonlight was a lonesome witness as their shared their first kiss in the most intimate of settings.

AN: So the amount of reviews I received for the last chapter was simply overwhelming. Thank you so much to everybody who reviews; it sure keeps my motivation level up! So, they may have the chance to be together now, but things are about to get far more angst-y than they were at the beginning. I have definitely taken into consideration all of your requests, most of which I had already thought about in similar ways, because they are kind of a given. Thanks so much for your enthusiasm and interest!


	7. Confusion

Emma was paranoid. They weren't dating, but they certainly weren't friends, and she believed that everybody who made eye contact with her in the days after her late night swim with Will were conscious of that fact. They weren't committed to each other, but Saturday night had found her naked and wet with a boy in the local lake.

Emma didn't know if she was comfortable with that concept. Nothing had stopped her at the time as their kisses had become deeper and slower and he had moved them slowly through the water. Afterwards, they had sat on the grass in their underwear and attempted to dry off in the heat. His hands had smoothed back her wet hair from her face as their eyes locked and before she had time to consider what she wanted, his lips had closed around one of her nipples, sucking lightly, wanting more of her that she didn't know if she wanted to share. It had been pleasant and sweet and she didn't try to push him away, but thoughts were running through her mind at a mile a minute; self-criticisms, misunderstanding of desire, guilt. And she hated them because truly, she wanted him to love her so completely.

And then on Tuesday 'Extension English' arrived at two pm, the one place she was always relaxed because happiness and intellect radiated through her bones so completely as the afternoon sun slithered its way through the slits of the blinds.

Emma raised her freckled arm softly, earning a nod from her English teacher. "Mr Peterson, do you think Hardy had a deeper reason for naming such a hypocritical character Angel?"

He sighed at the complexity of her question, secretly finding it refreshing to have such an active mind in his class. "Emma, you have to think about the era that _Tess of the D'Urbervilles_ was written in and thus, Hardy's response to religious attitudes amongst society. Perhaps Hardy viewed Catholicism as hypocritical, did you consider that?"

"Of course," she chewed on the tip of her pen as thoughts scattered through her mind. "But I can't help but think that there's something deeper still, something far more personal to Hardy." She cocked her head to the side in thought, her attention focused on the authoritative figure before her as a voice piped up from a row behind.

"Well some people appear to be angels and their actions contradict their image. It's human nature, yet it's a huge issue and I'm glad you brought it up, Emma." Emma smiled at the brunette as she turned her attention back to the front of the classroom, her lips parted as she proceeded to contribute an answer to her own question and Mr Peterson's.

Before she could utter a word she was interrupted, "I'm surprised you had to ask Mr Peterson, though," the voice sweetly continued its monologue. "From what we've heard about you recently, you obviously know quite a lot about false image."

Colour drained from Emma's face at the girl's humiliating words, the pen dangling from her mouth as Mr Peterson looked deep into her eyes, reading her hurt. As his eyes bore into hers, willing her to speak up for herself though not doing it for her, she was reminded of her best friend.

Instead, she asked to be excused for a moment, contradicting herself as she hastily placed her notepad and copy of _Tess of the D'Urbervilles_ in her bag along with her few items of stationery.

Shame was an understatement, a far deeper illness consuming her as she fought for breath, her sandals slapping the floor of the hallway fiercely as she hurried to remove herself from the institution. As she fought for breath, she wondered about the horrible lies Terri had spread; if she had all of the girls in the school spreading hateful lies about her. The thought that made her gasp for breath though, was that every untruth that they would utter could never be as crude as what had really happened, however beautiful her intimate moments with Will had been. They would spread lies, detailing the vulgarity of each sexual act that was expected by two cheaters, excluding the significance of emotion, but they would be true. She had learnt about sex and romance and all that went with it under the heading of love in novels and plays, but her chest had wound to its tightest when a character she had fallen in love with was humiliated by a society that didn't know any better. For the last two weeks, every night, Emma read herself to sleep, inducing herself into a relaxed state that calmed her worries. Love scenes, in romance novels that were hidden deep under her bed in shoe boxes, made her squirm late at night as her fingers rested between her legs, drawing circles that brought her to climax. Will had showed her how to pleasure herself, and now, with the spiteful glares of female students, Emma secretly wished, for the sake of her conscience, that he hadn't.

Emma didn't tell Will about what happened in English, but she saw the way he looked at her with pity the day after when they stood before his locker talking and a footballer had patted him on the back proudly with a playful grin.

"Will, do you think anybody saw us at the lake?" she asked quietly, afraid to be overheard.

"No, Em." He shook his head and shifted his textbooks in his arms. It's not about that."

Emma's gaze was low, focusing on the discoloured floor beneath her feet. "People are saying things about us, Will." Her whisper was soft as she willed the tears to remain behind her eyelids.

"I know. Don't worry, it will all be forgotten tomorrow." He watched her eyelids close in embarrassment as her lower lip trembled slightly before she bit it harshly. "Does it upset you, Em?" his question was soft and loving, careful in his address of her in this somewhat fragile state.

Her eyes slowly opened and she looked up at him as she moved closer, lowering her voice. "Yes. I just don't like the idea of anybody else knowing about our intimate moments."

"Me either," Will sighed with a frown, identifying her tense posture as similar to the night he had laid above her, groaning in satisfaction as her body had frozen in fear of being caught. "They're too special, right?"

"Yes," her lips turned up in a forced smile at his encouragement, remembering her cries of satisfaction as her first orgasm had ripped through her body, "Always."

He was content, relaxed and carefree as they journeyed home, but a voice nagged profusely in her mind: stop, slow down, and don't get too far ahead of yourself. He wanted more intimate moments, but she didn't know what she could handle or what she wanted to. Her heart and mind had been safe when there were restrictions, but now she could have whatever she wanted and she suddenly found herself unsure of what that was exactly. They made their way up to his bedroom, her heart beating rapidly beneath her ribcage, making the redhead afraid and withdrawn. She used to be blind to the pressure he placed upon her, but now it was crushing down in one heavy, lust-filled load.

He sat down on his bed, removing his shoes before he started, "Emma, I know you are a little bit shaken at the moment by everything that has happened, so I want you to tell me when it's okay to be close to you again...in that way." His eyes were lustful but his desires were reined in, and at that recognition, she felt safe again.

Her eyes widened in embarrassment, drifting down to the carpet where she stood leaning against his dresser.

He drew in a deep breath slowly, his adoration for her burning his vision. "I was thinking that today you could share one of your stories with me?"

He looked up slowly, her eyes meeting his as she took in his caring, comforting words. Her tone was certain and hopeful as she asked, "Help me write one."

"You want me to write a story with you?" Interest sparked in his hazel eyes, drowning in hers as the distance between them was recognised.

She nodded sincerely, "I have a character sketched out and I think you would like him. He's like you, but more confused."

He cocked his head to the side, taking her in, purple skirt and white tank top, her naked, pale arms resting at her sides, her palms pressed against timber as her back was supported by the dresser. "Like you?" he asked quietly, hesitating.

"He's a little bit of both of us." Her grin was wide as she muttered the words beneath baited breath, begging for his understanding, which he gave her whole-heartedly with a playful wink, sealing the deal.

AN: Thank you so much for your support! This is kind f just a filled chapter and then next few will be longer as I have finally set up a story arc. Your reviews are so kind and light up my face!


	8. Receiving

"You think not having many friends makes him strong?" Will asked Emma softly as the summer wind howled outside his bedroom window and the dim light on his nightstand sweetly illuminated the room.

Her chin rested on her forearms, crossed upon the mattress as her body rested tiredly along the side of his bed nearest to the window. "You don't?"

He shook his head against the headboard, his eyes focused on the pencil in her hand, the lead making patterns in her journal as her strong fingers worked the puppet of wood. His words were honest as he watched her lips purse in concentration as she drew lines and curves in lead, "No, I think not having many friends makes him lonely."

Her legs were bent at the knee, swinging softly side to side, the balls of her bare feet admiring the ceiling of his bedroom. "Well, that's a given." She yawned tiredly, her tone sarcastic in the early hours of the morning.

Will propped himself up straighter against the headboard, the palms of his hands flat against the soft cotton face of his pillow. "So how does it make him strong?"

Emma considered his question before answering poetically, "He has spent so much time with himself that he knows what he wants and who he is."

They were intelligent adolescents; Will an adult in less than a year, but his response was simple. "I have friends and I know what I want."

She smiled politely, shaking her head and casting her gaze towards her journal as the room took on a solemn tranquillity. "No you don't, Will. You just think you want a lot of things, and you don't let anything get in your way of getting it."

He cocked an eyebrow at her honest words, his bare toes rubbing against the cotton of his duvet. "Maybe we should move on..." he suggested with a chuckle.

"Maybe we should take a break." Emma closed her journal and rolled over closer to Will, stretching her pale limbs. Her arms rested above her head, her auburn hair forming a halo around her head as her white tank top rode up to reveal a slither of freckled flesh to which he was oblivious, as he reached for the closed book.

He picked her journal up, attempting to find the page that they were at, "No, I want to keep working on this."

Her hand came to sweep over her face as she grinned, secretly proud that he found an interest in her deepest passion. "Will, it's 2am."

He kicked her arm gently with his foot and she giggled tiredly when he agreed, "I know, but its fun."

Her tone turned serious as she sat up next to him, her posture straight as her shoulder blades pressed into the wood, "Fun?"

He nudged her playfully as his voice quietened in the large house. "Yeah, of course. I can see why you get in your little moods when you're writing." His fingers came to lace through hers in a friendly gesture, his large palm protective in hers.

She turned her head to the side and pulled back from him sharply as her features contorted in confusion, "My moods?"

"Yeah, you know," he looked down at their joined hands, realising that a gesture which was once innocent now seemed out of place. "When you don't talk much and your eyes are always focused on my face."

She laughed, her lips parted, and he just wanted to place his lips against hers, to feel the soft wetness. "That's generally where people look, Will."

He shook his head slowly, their eyes meeting with ease, "No, you don't look into my eyes."

Emma swallowed as his hazel stare made her slightly uncomfortable in the most pleasant of ways, "What?"

"You skim over my face, but you can't seem to focus. It sounds silly, but anyone who is close to you would notice."

"Oh." She reached up to tuck a strand of fiery hair behind her ear, embarrassed by his admission.

Will turned his body slightly, facing her more completely and fingering a ringlet as her face flushed. "It's not a bad thing, Em," his warm, minty breath ricocheted of her red cheeks. "You're just in your own little world."

"I'll try to stop," she laughed softly as she looked down at his fingers in her curls, the back of his hand resting against her shoulder.

"No, don't try to stop."His grin was wide as he slowly pulled his hand back, shaking the other that was in her palm playfully before dropping it, much to her dismay.

For a while they had been practicing perfecting this place that they were in, attempting to mould a comfortable tension that suited them perfectly. Emma was confused and unsure, but they loved each other so deeply as friends that she understood her desires to be natural and beautiful. It was stunning, what they had together; the little relationship that they had built all by themselves. After the gossip at school had subsided, they began to spend more time together, writing and studying, whispering and sometimes, in private, sharing intimate kisses that would lead to nowhere. Emma knew Will was waiting for her to make a move to show him what she wanted, but he never pressured her. He would do little things like press his lips to her forehead, grasp her hand like he was now, wrap his arm around her waist and run his thumb along her hipbone; and she enjoyed it.

Three days ago, on a Sunday night when Emma's parents invited Will for dinner, they all discussed Emma and Will's plans for college. Will talked about how he was divided between Ohio State University and University of Cincinnati, while Emma scolded him for not having researched enough into scholarship programs. Emma began a long one-sided discussion about all of the different opportunities available to her at Ohio State University, while the three sat and listened. And then, out of the blue, Mr Pillsbury suggested that the family take a trip to Ohio State University to gain some knowledge on the courses, and the location that the college was situated. Emma's face had lit up and Will had agreed it was a wonderful idea for Emma to be able to grasp the concept of college life, and Mr Pillsbury had scrunched his face up in confusion, reminding Will of Emma, and explained that he had meant that Will would be going with the Pillsburys. Emma had nearly jumped off her chair in excitement, asking when they would leave and what research she would have to do beforehand. Mrs Pillsbury had told her to settle down; Mr Pillsbury had grinned and Will had felt at home.

"So do you think we should give him a girlfriend?" Will asked as he leant forward to pull the covers up, tossing her journal to the floor carefully.

She scooted her body down his bed without thought as she joined him under the covers, "A love interest?"

"Uhuh," he replied as he wondered why she had made such a bold move, unsure if the act had even registered in her mind as she carefully considered his proposal.

She bit her lip as her head came to rest on his pillow, "I don't know if he needs one."

"He does. Every guy does." His toes touched hers softly beneath the covers and she grinned widely before realisation set in. She swallowed her grin, not wanting to offend him but not wanting to give him the wrong idea as she pealed the covers back. Her parents had given her permission to sleep at Will's house overnight when Emma had told them about the sleeping arrangements, her airbed on his bedroom floor. Mrs Pillsbury had been nervous, while Mr Pillsbury had waved his hand nonchalantly at his wife, claiming that what existed between Will and Emma was only platonic and would always be and there was no need to worry. Emma had listened to her parents from the landing of the staircase late one school night, smiling to herself as she recalled the image of her naked chest pressed against Will's, then suddenly feeling horrible for betraying her parents.

Will's voice brought her back to the present, "No they don't." The underlying message was so obvious it floated in flashing lights across her features, but his smile brought a matching one to hers as she knelt on the inflatable bed beside his, crawling to her slumber.

He leant up on his elbow, resting his curly head on his palm. "Well he wants one, so maybe we should write about that."

Her tongue snuck out to wet her dry lips, the texture caused by shame. "Maybe he doesn't."

"Em, I know him as well as you do, and from a guy's perspective, our nameless dude has needs." His whisper was low and caring and truthful.

She adopted his pose, "Like what?"

"Guy needs, Em." His eyes widened playfully as she smirked.

"Will," she rolled her eyes. "How do you know that?"

"Em, there is not one guy that doesn't have needs; not just guys, everyone." Her face flushed as she remembered her own and at that moment, every ounce of shame and guilt that was present in her bloodstream disappeared. His words were true and allowed a certain peace to overcome her, a serenity that revealed the fact that her desires weren't to be silenced. Their love for each other was natural and sweet and there was absolutely nothing wrong with what she was doing with the boy she adored.

"Like, to be loved?" she questioned, wanting to hear his answer as he flicked off his light, leaving a stream of moonlight illuminating her features like it did their first sexual encounter.

"Yeah, for some guys, for others it's more sexual I guess." He looked up to the ceiling, his arms crossed behind his head as his boyish mind thought of everything they could be doing right now but weren't.

"Okay, so seeing as this character has somehow-" she rolled her eyes dramatically, her tone matching the nature of the gesture "-accidentally turned into a mirror image of you, what kind of needs do you think he has?"

He scoffed at her banter as he wondered why she was bringing this up. "Okay, let's stop saying 'needs'."

She giggled as she whispered to him, "Okay, 'desires'." She considered her next question and she spoke it only because her body wanted more from him. "What are yours?"

"Both." His answer came quick.

"Okay, but that's in general," Emma countered. "This is not a novel, Will. That's why we have to keep it in the moment; it's a short story." He realised that behind her honesty and pure care for the character they had created, she wanted an answer from him that would lead to something for them, an opening which would give them both exactly what they needed.

She could smell Will all around her. The smell of his skin on her pillow, taking her back to the night he had moved above her, their clothed bodies pressed against each other, his hardened length against her wet, swollen panty-clad core. His question brought her out of her daydream, "So right now?"

"Yeah," she agreed softly.

She enjoyed his answer and he revelled in confessing it. "Well, I guess both."

"Your desires are sexual and loving?" Emma prompted as she sat up, her wild ringlets falling around her face.

"Yes." He nodded to the darkness as he heard her adjust her position.

"Oh." He imagined her round mouth, falling open as she worried where she would take this.

"My needs are mainly sexual, though," he added as an afterthought. "Because I already have enough love in my life. I'm not lonely."

His last statement turned her arousal into complete emotion, the slight pressure in her nether regions relaxing. Her admission was softly spoken as she tucked her hair behind both ears, "I'm not lonely either."

"I know," he spoke so faintly she barely heard him, and the gentleness of his tone sent her into a dark state of honest passion.

"I used to be really lonely. I still am at times," she confessed as her throat closed up. "I think it's good to be lonely sometimes, though."

He leant over the side of his bed again, his eyes meeting hers as his heart pounded. "I get lonely at night..." he smiled sadly, not asking a single thing of her.

"Me, too." Her confession made him whole as he discovered her completely, understanding that her deepest threat, like his, was darkness. Her hand reached between their beds to stroke his cheek and his eyes closed softly as her thumb caressed the flesh of his lips, tracing delicate patterns.

"Emma, I really liked that night you slept in my bed." His lips pursed to kiss her thumb and she wet her own lips at his husky confession.

"I liked that, too," she muttered as her eyelids slipped shut. "I felt really safe."

"Do you want to do it again?" he asked quietly, making her lids flutter in the darkness. "But this time we won't...you know."

Her eyes snapped open at his words, a pleasant and hopeful smile gracing her lips. "Okay."

She lifted herself from the airbed and he scooted over, resting in the spooning position which she crawled into, pressing her back against his front.

"Goodnight, Em," he whispered against her shoulder as his arms circled lightly around her waist, and she turned her body fully and impulsively to watch his face contort in relaxation.

Their gazes locked in anticipation and she wondered why she needed him so badly. He didn't want to push her into anything she wasn't ready for and he was honestly more than happy to sleep with her in purely the literal sense, but when hers lips touched his roughly, he didn't complain. He tasted minty with a hint of the hot-chocolate they had drunk earlier in the night as his hand came to tangle in the curls at the nape of her neck. Her lips pressed against his, hard and warm, wet and deep, and after a moment, she felt it on her thigh; she felt his hardening length pressing into her hopefully, despite his best efforts to keep his body in check.

She pulled away from his lips and moved her thigh slightly, feeling his full length for the second time. "Does it make you frustrated when we kiss, Will?"

"Sometimes..." he was afraid to push forward or pull back, not wanting to startle her and not knowing what he wanted.

She pressed her face against his neck, breathing in the scent of him. "You're frustrated now, aren't you?" her tone was curious and innocent.

She felt him gulp as he answered, "Yes."

"Will it go away?" she pressed her lips against his neck softly, nipping an overly sensitive area as he pulled back slightly.

"Yeah," His eyes were closed when she pulled back to look up at his face and he appeared to be in pain. "Just give me a minute," he muttered softly as he moved further away from her in shame.

Emma didn't even consider her words as she spoke from what was now her side of the bed. "You don't have to make it go away, Will."

"Em, just shush for a minute," he snapped in concentration as his chest heaved.

"Why?" she scooted closer to him and he threw his head back against the pillows.

His eyes closed as his body refused to listen to him and she saw the covers tent slightly "Because it won't go away if you keep talking to me."

She moved as close to him as she possibly could, grasping his large hand in her dainty one. "I know," she confessed without hesitation, resting her other palm against his thigh, making his eyes snap open. His eyes locked on hers, penetrating and lustful.

Emma bent her head to whisper in his ear seductively, her soft curls tickling his jaw. "Do you want me to touch it and make it go away?" Her fingers rested on the curve of his thigh muscle and his whole body tensed in arousal. "I'll do it, Will, like you got to do for me. I'll make you feel good if you want me to..."

He reached down to remove her bony fingers from his thigh, placing it on her stomach as he clarified gentlemanly, "Do you want to, Emma?"

Her hand refused to be guided as it came back to rest on the covers above the evident bulge, tracing hypnotising patterns that she knew he could feel. Her answer was laced with desire, "Yes."

Will threw the covers back, not caring how desperate he seemed. He had been jealous of her that day by the lake, selfishly wanting to feel what she was feeling, that rush of pure arousal and excitement that only came from another's touch on the most intimate part of your body. He pulled his pyjama shorts down his legs, leaving him in his tented boxers that she gawked at for the second time in her life.

"Give me your hand." He whispered as she complied. He took her tiny fingers in his, slipping their joined hold beneath the material as she pressed her body against his.

He shuddered from head to toe as her fragile grasp let go of his and palmed around his length. "Oh God."

She watched the movement of her hand, flexing her grip around him as her fingers stroked his taut skin. His lips fell open as his hips rose slowly at every stroke, begging for more. "What does it feel like?" she asked, a whisper in the darkness.

He choked on his words the first time he tried to reply, as her inexperienced thumb ran mindlessly along a vein beneath his length. "It feels like I'm not in control," he breathed in a harsh whisper as his hips bucked faster, his eyes locked on hers.

She rested her bare thigh against his, almost straddling him as her own pyjama shorts rode higher. "That's okay, Will. Let me be in control," she whispered in his ear sweetly as her gentle hand pumped him in just the right way that made his toes curl against her own, his eyelids slipping closed.

He moaned deeply as her pink lips met his clumsily, moulding with his as her thumb travelled over the tip.

"Will," her hand paused, slight panic creeping over her features. "Just be really quiet in case your parents hear."

He nodded quickly, thrusting his hips to meet her still hand. She tightened her grip around him, feeling her panties dampen as she pleasured Will. His eyes snapped open as her hand left his length to softly grasp the flesh behind his erection, squeezing curiously as Will nearly shot up off the bed, "Fuck, Emma... That feels amazing." His groan was soft as she trailed her fingers down the middle of the swollen flesh.

Her eyes widened as her grip loosened in his pants, her hand resting over him lightly as he squirmed, biting his bottom lip in utter frustration. "I've wanted to make you feel good for so long," she sighed into his neck, her lips coming to rest on the curve of his ear. "I think about this a lot."

"You do?" he questioned in relief as her hand grasped him tightly once again.

She nodded, moving her hand faster, exploring the sensitive head of his length with her fingers and her palm that followed.

"Slow down, Emma," he gasped as she took him to a cliff that he wasn't ready to fall over.

She wet her lips and pulled back to look at him in shame, stopping immediately. "Sorry, I just don't really know what to do."

He shook his head wildly, urging her to continue. "You're doing fantastically."

"Are you sure?" she asked slowly as he panted, his body heaving off the bed, his length so hard it was almost painful. He was desperate for release as her delicate fingers rested in his boxers and it could have been described as teasing if her widened eyes weren't so innocently large.

He groaned, thrusting his hips, making her hand move around him as she curiously watched his lower body move in arousal. "Yes, God...Please Emma, just touch me."

She began again, resting her thumb along the vein at the base of his member, her fingers twisting around him as she found what made him groan and what made her hand slide along him easier, as pre-cum pooled at the head of his penis. "Emma, oh..."her hand worked him as his mouth opened in shock, a sweetly desperate confession leaving his mouth.

"Your hand feels so fucking good around me." He moaned as her eyes fell on his closed lids, a smile forming on her lips, proud that she could take him to the brink of something so elusive.

Emma bent to whisper in his ear, her breath warm and wet against his skin, "Your fingers felt really good on me, too."

His body shook beneath her hand, his hips thrusting wildly as her lips closed around his quickly, forcing her tongue to rest next to his and hiding his groan as his release coated her hand that was tight around his length. She stroked him slowly as he shuddered and gasped and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. She watched his tense body relax and his eyelids flutter as she brought him to a place he had only ventured to alone. His eyes opened slowly as his length softened beneath her grip and her chest heaved in shock and pride.

Before their eyes could meet, her lips rested slowly on his forehead, innocent and experienced, naive and seductive, as her gesture made him fall in love with her all over again.

AN: So this was longer than I anticipated! I hope everyone enjoyed it, even though it was lengthy. I had to make up for the last chapter, though. Thoughts?


	9. Reasons

It was two months and three days before they left for Columbus. During the wait, two productions were staged at the local community theatre, 'A Little Night Music' and an alternative adaptation of 'The Crucible', which wasn't so successfully alternative after all. Will and Emma went to watch both productions, their boredom not as irritating to the mind as was the uneasiness that had arrested their relationship. Uneasiness was a broad term; factors of wanting and withdrawal had met at a crossroad. Will would kiss Emma goodnight. She would turn her face away, his lips resting high on her cheek bone. When he would read her writing, her mind would recall the location of the paragraph on the sheet of paper that detailed a love scene. Her eyes no longer read his blushing and hopeful features as he read the details of love-making in her work; she would retreat from the room.

Things went back to how they used to be. Sleepovers no longer took place, touches weren't shared, and by no means was physical pleasure brought to either of them. Ice-creams were no longer bought as the weather cooled slightly; naked swimming in the lake didn't occur; questions were no longer asked. They hadn't retreated back to the lake.

Smiles were shared as the drowning sun cast a glow over her doll-like face as she returned books to their shelves on afternoons as he sat with a student, mulling over simple multiplications and divisions. Glasses sat on noses as they undressed each other with their eyes from a distance, recalling the beauty that was their bodies pressed together, heaving and panting in the sweetest satisfaction that was known to them.

So when the day finally arrived that they were to travel to Columbus, they were as thrilled and expectant as two friends who were embarking on new stages of their lives could be. Awkwardness didn't exist between them by any means; simply the nature of the relationship had changed. The change wasn't resented, but it wasn't welcomed with open arms; they were simply hospitable to this turn of events.

The drive hadn't been long and the day had started late, as Emma's father had some weekend work to complete. Mrs Pillsbury complained about staying at a Bed and Breakfast in Columbus overnight, but Mr Pillsbury insisted that they attend the college visit both days, to cater to both Emma and Will's interests. Mrs Pillsbury scoffed, knowing that her husband's only incentive was to meet up with his own college room-mate in Columbus.

And so the first day was spent with travel and a late arrival at 4pm, as Mr Pillsbury looked at his watch and complained about the fact that the administration office at the college closed by 5pm. Emma's mother suggested that they ring Jim, Mr Pillsbury's old friend, and organise dinner, at which Mr Pillsbury feigned surprise, earning a patronising glare from his redheaded wife. Emma and Will were left at the Bed and Breakfast at 7pm in their room that resembled a grandmother's bedroom in an Irish cottage. Two single beds were the focus of the room, a television against a wall, a door leading to a balcony on the other.

Emma dressed for bed in a silky white nightgown, and Will commented on how beautiful she looked. The material fell to mid-thigh until it met a finishing inch of lace, matching the straps that covered her shoulders, holding the virginal silk to her petite frame. He worried about her parents, what they would think if they came to bid a final goodnight when they returned from dinner, because he knew they would not approve of what Emma was wearing. He wasn't sure if he approved of it himself, as he drew his gaze away from her legs, knowing the texture of her skin felt as lovely as the silky nightgown. Will was well aware that she was wearing it for his benefit, but confusion consumed him as his advances had been diminished by her the entire trip. When his hand rested on hers in the car, she had pulled her own away, casting her gaze out the window. When her father had gone inside that morning to fetch Emma's suitcase, Will's hand had fallen to Emma's hip as she spoke excitedly about their trip. Her body had tensed as she shifted to look for something in a suitcase already packed into the car, leaving him to swallow as her father returned with a thermos, pillow and suitcase in tow.

Will met her on the balcony, her nightgown blowing in the sweetly cool breeze that interrupted her solidarity. He stepped out, admiring her form, feeling his heart pound at the memory of who she truly was beneath her facade of fragility and innocence.

Will smiled and Emma smiled and then they both looked out to the nothing and everything that was before them.

"Will, what do you think falling in love feels like?" She was shy and timid as she tucked a ringlet behind her ear.

He sighed as he watched her, both of their fingers curling around the railing of the balcony as his shoulder brushed hers. "I don't know, Em. I think it's different for everyone..."

"Have you ever been in love?" she whispered, her head turning to gaze at him.

"I don't know." He turned his body, his opposite shoulder brushing hers as their eyes focused on different landscapes. "Have you?"

"I have no idea. I don't think so..." she trailed off as she shook her head, regretful and unsure.

His hand met hers on the railing, his large palm resting over the back of her hand. "I'd be really scared to tell someone I loved them if I knew they couldn't say it back."

She nodded softly, understanding his point as her hand turned over, intertwining her delicate fingers with his. "That would suck..." She considered her words, needing to articulate her emotions and beliefs. "It would hurt more than it would suck."

"Sometimes I feel like I may be in love." His words stung his own heart as her features refused to convey her understanding.

"When you were with Terri?" she questioned, truly innocent.

"No. When I'm with you, Em." She snapped her head around, her eyes meeting his, ablaze with hunger and determination.

Confusion, hope and resentment of her actions clouded her eyes as he listened to her speak, "You think you're in love with me?"

He nodded, ironically certain, "Maybe."

She swallowed as she mumbled, "Me, too." He watched her eyes water as she bit her bottom lip, looking away from him and turning her body to walk from him and his starving eyes.

He caught her fingers gently in his own, spinning her to face him, her eyes wide and troubled. "I just look at you sometimes and my heart just aches because I just want...I don't even know what I want anymore."

She was silent, consumed by guilt and love as she tried to form the words that she wanted so desperately to leave her lips.

"I want to be in love with you, Will." She hesitated as his lips pursed, a mannerism that she found intimidating and sorrowful on his perfect face. "I hope that one day we'll both know what love is, and then we can tell each other."

She watched the lump in his throat bob, as she realised his nervousness. "I'd really like that, Em."

Her question was quick as she left his warm and careful capture. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure..." he returned as she made her way to rest against the exterior wall of their room, the white lace against her bare, freckled thighs as the wind picked up.

"What are we doing? I mean, are we dating or are we just friends, because sometimes I'm really not sure. Sometimes my heart races when you touch my hand and sometimes it doesn't and I get confused."

He moved closer to her "Do you want to be with me in that way?"

"Yes." Her whisper was confidant and timely.

He nodded, a smile gracing his lips in condescending satisfaction as he looked at his bare feet against the tiles of the balcony. "Okay. Then I won't date anybody else."

She shook her head, scared of her sexuality. "I didn't mean it like that I just-"

"I don't think I could date anyone else." He stopped her.

She raised an eyebrow. "You couldn't?"

His eyes met hers at her trivial question as he shook his head adamantly. "No."

"Why?" At her question, his eyes looked pained, troubled because she didn't understand what she meant to him and how much he wanted her.

He grasped her waist, pushing her firmly against the concrete wall. The wall was cold against her bare skin, as a fire burned in his veins. His eyes were burning ice, examining hers purposefully as he bore into her soul, his chest pressed against hers as his grip on her waist became tighter, almost painful.

"Because I need you." His tone was soft as the words escaped between his perfect lips. Her arms hung at her sides as she swallowed, her chest beginning to heave against his. "I'll be whatever you want me to be." His breath was warm against her bare neck as his fingertips pressed into her back, his palms warm on her silk covered ribs. Intimidation and fright overwhelmed her body as she became startled under his scrutiny, the object of his desperation.

She grinned in nervousness, her features mocking him as she hid her anxiety.

"Don't be so dramatic, Will." Her whisper against his lips was intimate and wise, her body tiny in his dangerously powerful hands.

His eyes widened in utter hurt and devastation. "Don't laugh at me, Emma."

She raised an eyebrow again, feeling her heart race beneath her breast. "I'll laugh at you if I want to."

He shook his head, a desperate utterance dying between his lips. "Don't."

She gasped as his palms travelled higher to brush her nipples, her breath catching in her throat. He looked down to the tops of her nightgown, circling his palm roughly over her curves. She only pushed her chest into his hands as she demanded, "Don't tell me what to do."

His tongue snuck out between his lips as his stubborn hands stopped their assault, jealous that she got to feel pleasure when he was so desperately deprived. She pulled back, anger and shame lighting her eyes as she resented him for his arousing touch. Her body slipped away quickly, her red curls whipping him softly as she returned to the room.

"Don't walk away from me, Emma." Her breath caught at his serious and pained tone as she padded across the carpet. He sighed loudly, his fingers running through his curls in frustration. "I'm trying to be intimate with you."

She pushed tears back, ashamed and panic-stricken. "Maybe I don't want to be intimate with you." It was hurtful and dishonest as she kept her disappointment with herself in check.

His teeth clenched in anger and sadness as his heart pounded in rejection. "Stop playing me." His request saddened her, her heart hurting for him as her conscience attempted to discover for the millionth time what she truly wanted.

"You always want to be intimate with me." The words were precious on his tongue and he remembered a time when it wasn't like this, when she begged for release as her naked body convulsed beneath his palm, his fingers moving inside of her in a rhythm that made her soul bleed in sweet satisfaction.

Her response was husky and so very obviously untrue, "No I don't. We haven't been close in that way for a while, Will and I have no regrets about that."

He watched her from across the room, his face red in humiliation and hurt. "You're a liar."

"I'm not lying," she replied. "I haven't thought about you in that way for a long time." She grasped her toiletries bag from her suitcase, making a move for the bathroom. He followed her, his pace quickening, afraid she would lock the door behind herself. He watched the back of her head, her wild curls flying around her shoulders as she made her way across the room, her body tense and rigid.

"Are you trying to hurt me?" The question escaped from his lips in a harsh whisper, afraid and pained.

She placed the purple bag on the bathroom basin, as she sighed deeply. "No, I'm just being honest with you." Her eyes met his in the mirror, wide and ashamed. Her features were beautifully regretful as red ringlets framed her heart shaped face.

"So when you look at me in that way you do, what is that?" She looked tired and attentive as she watched him speak, sweetly confused and troubled. "I think you're just embarrassed because you don't let anyone in, and in the short time that you were giving yourself to me, you were more alive than you ever have been; and that, that scares you, Emma."

She pushed past him cruelly, her shoulder hitting his violently as she paced back towards her bed. As she pulled the covers back roughly, he grasped her shoulder gently. She swung his hold from her bare skin, turning in anger and shame as his last words of confrontation rang loudly in her ears. She pushed him back onto his bed as the loud request escaped from her lips "Take your hands off me, Will."

His body fell softly to his mattress, as she stood before him, her face wild and red. He gulped, his eyes almost as wide as hers as he watched her battle confusion and uncertainty. He felt for her as the tears in her eyes disappeared and she crossed her arms, trying to control her breathing. He watched her lids close in frustration as she bit her lower lip. When she reopened them, love and need were found in pools of brown.

Will stood, his chest heavy and his eyes unsated. She watched him curiously as his gaze softened in a matter of minutes, his chin quivering as hers stopped. His hands rested on her shoulders as he pushed her back onto her bed forcefully. She fell back with a thud, shocked, as he stood over her, admiring the way her red ringlets fell around her face like a halo. Though, she was anything but heavenly as her nightgown rested high upon her thighs. She sat up on her elbows, her gaze boring into his as his tongue escaped between his lips, nervous and stubbornly forceful. Her chest heaved, angry and determined as he moved closer.

She spread her knees that were angled at the edge of the mattress, feeling him move between them as he looked down in question and fear. She watched him with lust, desire and neediness, never knowing who she was. He did, though, and he was glad as he listened to the hot request leave her wet lips pleadingly.

"Touch me."

AN: Sorry this took so long. Uni has just been hectic before the break. I've been working on a one-shot because I had a complete mind-blank with this, and it's nearly finished, but I decided to publish this first. Thank you everyone for your reviews. I really appreciate the time everyone takes to share their opinions and it really makes the day extra special. Thank you so much for your time!


	10. Understanding

"Touch me."

"Why?" he demanded in question, spiteful and bewildered.

She was still, unmoving before him, her legs parted in anticipation. Her tone matched his, though her anger dissolved as he watched her so intently, almost as afraid of her as she was of him. "Because I want you to..."

She drew a breath, tilting her head in question, her red curls spread upon the covers as the back of her bare knees rubbed along the edge of the mattress. His question was soft as he mumbled, "Why?"

She shook her head slowly, biting her bottom lip. "I'm not going to beg you, Will."

"I want you to beg me for it." He could hear her bated breathing, still overcome by the forcefulness he had asserted moments before.

She swallowed in refusal, her head as still as his legs between hers. "I won't."

He lowered his body onto hers, the two lamps in the room illuminating their expressions so intensely. His masculine scent intoxicated her mind, as he lowered his head to whisper in her ear.

"Tell me you want me, or I can't touch you." His tone unnerved her.

"The first time you touched me we didn't want each other."

He began a wet whisper in her ear, "You almost made me come in my pants, of course we wanted each other."

"Will..." he pulled back as she whined in desperation.

"We can't keep doing this, Emma." She sat up on her elbows. "I want you to need me again, as your best friend foremost. The other stuff," he gestured between their bodies, "...this...it doesn't matter so much."

"I just want to feel close to you, again." She brought her palm to travel over his torso, his shoulder and his neck, resting her fingers in the curls at the base of his neck.

She craned her neck to kiss him, her lips finding his in an assault. He parted his lips, as their tongues duelled, finding one another after so long apart. She moaned, slowing her kiss to mould her mouth artfully to his, the only boy she could ever be so intimate with. His hands came to rest on her silk-clad hips, stroking, caressing, adoring. She tasted like cinnamon and sugar, her lips soft with gentle intent, "You're so special, Will."

She pulled him down to her, their lips still attached and moving against wet, hot flesh. Her dainty hand pressed against his shoulder firmly and he fell back against the cover slowly, his head finding its place on her pillow with gentle ease. She watched him, eyes hooded with lust, greed, matching her developing awakening.

She moved, her body young and needy, her mind eager and determined as she crawled over his lean body awkwardly, excited for the both of them.

"I want to do what we did that first night in your bed." She lowered her body slowly, her features radiating anything but innocence, but her lack of understanding for the act that had taken place months before in his bed, contradicted her facade.

Their eyes met as she pressed herself into him softly, the pressure between her legs easing as she straddled his lower body.

He watched her intently as she rolled her hips forward. She was beautiful; her bottom lip caught roughly between pearly teeth, her red curls wild with her movements. As he hardened slowly beneath her, she gasped, arching her back like a goddess. She was an enigma to everyone but Will, and in that moment of opportune clarity, he envisioned her 15 years from now. He saw his future wife, his gorgeous redheaded soul mate above him, her sex enveloping him in a way that made him whole.

His hips bucked into hers as she taught him how to move.

"Help me feel again." Her body fell limp at his movements, collapsing spontaneously upon his chest, moulding her entire form into his. She buried her face in his neck, tasting his skin with her lips and tongue, the velvet texture hot. She smelled like roses and violets as she brushed her hair past his face to return to her position above him.

He shook his head as he continued to move, craning his neck to kiss her. "No."

Her palms flattened upon his firm chest, refusing his lips. "Yes." Her face was flushed, her shoulders faintly covered with a blush. She lost all coordination as the feeling overwhelmed her, a fire burning wildly in her lower body as she threw caution to the burning flames.

He grunted in pure arousal, his features mature and conflicted. "Emma, stop moving so fast."

Their gazes met and locked. "No." The tips of her fingers dug into his t-shirt clad chest as her toes clenched in arousal.

She whimpered softly above him in deep satisfaction, swivelling her hips madly. It was needy and deliberate and selfish, but she couldn't stop and he didn't want to be the one to end it. She grinded against the bulge of his erection, pressing herself into him hard and then easing off as she rubbed her aroused centre against him softly. Sex radiated from her young, untamed body as she sought a release she was certain he could provide her.

He nodded sharply. He watched her, his hips no longer moving, transfixed on the image before him. It was too much; her pale skin, the virginal nightgown, her lips parted and her eyes closed as she panted. It was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. She wasn't a girl, she was a woman, and he adored her. His hands fell from her hips as his ears filled with gasps and moans and pants, her voice rising as she whimpered and whispered, begging for him to just let her have her way with him.

"Watch me, Will." She arched her chest forward. "Watch me come."

He didn't even know it was happening until her eyes widened and her mouth fell open and her movements became slower and harder, the tilt of her hips pressing into his pubic bone. Emma's body shook as a pathetic cry escaped from her lips, her chest heaving as her release left her in a state of ultimate relaxation.

She paused above him, seductive and grateful. His lips formed the expression 'wow' before her own touched his softly, merely a whisper of regret for distancing herself and thankfulness for what he had just allowed her.

She watched him intently as she rolled her hips softly, and for the first time in their relationship, in her life, she noticed it. As his lids slipped shut and he prepared to succumb to the satisfying pain she was evoking in his body, she saw the tiny scar on his chin. She brought her lips down dreamily, kissing the scar lovingly, softly, until her lips closed around the mark, erotica consuming her soul as she sucked at his marred skin. Emma pressed her chest against his, feeling his arms come to wrap around her waist, holding his lovely girlfriend to him as he gave in to her.

He shuddered beneath her, his release imminent and perfect as her fingers cameto tangle lovingly in his curls, cupping his head in her hands sweetly as he came. As he shook and gasped, pressing himself into her, she placed soft kisses over his face, on his tightly-closed eyelids, upon his forehead ever so gently.

He was silent when he finished, relaxing his hold on her slightly and running a hand up and into her curls as she pulled back. She climbed off of him, sweeping her palm and following fingers across his strong jaw line.

"That was amazing, Will."

He smiled, his features troubled and relaxed. She watched him curiously as he retreated to the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself.

She waited, propping herself up against the headboard, proud of her ability to not feel ashamed after loving Will so closely. Eventually, the bathroom door opened and he walked out, donned in new boxers. Their eyes met and he smiled shyly, tired as he held his hand out to her.

Emma quirked an eyebrow as her gaze questioned him. His smile dropped and she quickly walked over to him, taking his hand as he led her back out to the balcony. Their fingers linked as her heart soared, aching so beautifully for his evident troubles.

"I just don't want it to be like that between us again," he started. "The way it is after every time we are intimate together. Why do you become so distant with me?" His words weren't accusing, only curious and loving and she placed a soft kiss to his smooth cheek.

She watched him, tears on the tips of his lashes, threatening to fall so beautifully. He was vulnerable, a mess really, after every intimate encounter. She wanted to give him her heart because she knew he deserved it. He deserved everything she had, and she knew how to succumb to him, how to love him the way he needed to be loved.

"Because my whole life, everyone has been distant with me." Her hair was curly and untamed, her eyes glistening like his and he licked his lips in awe. "It was all I knew until I met you." She was soft spoken, as always, blatantly sweet in the way she communicated with him.

"You're so loving, Will. But you have to understand that it can be overbearing some times. I need space, too."

They could have been thirty, married with children, so experienced, as he pressed his warm, dry lips to her forehead, so worn out from their activities.

"I missed you."

Her hand cupped his cheek, wiping away his tears as the words left his lips, leaving her speechless and relieved. It was nice to feel wanted, and it was lovely to be needed. But to be missed, the imperfection which caused the desire to be with that person again, was utterly perfect.

His whisper was soft, ignorant of the happiness that she could discover when alone, as he focused on her past loneliness. "I'm sorry that I'm your first real friend."

"I'm sorry, too." Her reply was profound, a deliverance of self-worth and understanding as her hand fell from his cheek. He nodded softly, moving to walk inside as she admired his strong form that had taught her so much about herself in less than a year.

"But, Will?"

He turned, his gaze finding and locking with hers harmoniously.

"I'm so glad you're going to be my lover."

AN: So I hope everyone liked this. I'm going to be tackling a darker concept next chapter that will both individualise and connect this pairing. Have we any thoughts on the blatant sexual themes...too much? Let me know. Your input is most important! And, as always, thank you so much to those who review. It means more than you know.


	11. Salvation

As the weather became cooler, their relationship blossomed into something magnificent. It was better than anything they had ever experienced; simple routine abolishing the spontaneity of their intimacy, and they became a real couple.

With a temporary job at the local produce market, Will finally saved enough money to buy a car. He was sick of driving his Dad's car around all the time and he wanted something for himself, mostly. Though, when the time came to actually purchase the car, he backed out and decided to save for something he really wanted. So he kept working, saving, packing fruit. He was rewarded though, and not simply in the form of money.

After each Sunday morning shift, he would find Emma leaning against the wooden fence in the dusty car park, a warm smile on her face, her cheeks red from the cold breeze that swept around her, tighter than her cardigan. Her arms would be wrapped around herself until they were wrapped around him, his arms around her, their bodies pressed against each other tightly, sweetly. It was like a reunion every Sunday morning, young love blossoming dramatically as they disregarded the fact that they only kissed each other good night hours before. They would forget that lazy lips had collided at her front gate in the darkness after their Saturday night date; that his hands had crept over curves that were delicate and perfect in his palms just hours ago. They would link fingers on Sunday morning, walking down Main Street laughing or silent, happier than they ever had been. They would buy hot-chocolate at the ice-cream store and sit by the lake, talking about the wonder that college life would be and how fortunate they both were to find their courses of choice located at the same university. He would kiss her as red leaves fell from trees that lined the lake, her lips smooth and gentle as he parted them softly with his tongue. She would whimper, the taste of chocolate and Will delicious to the senses that held her captive.

The Glee Club sky-rocketed in a short time, allowing Will to form a special bond with a woman who became like a mother to him in such a short amount of time. A club Will had joined eighteen months ago had never been incredibly important to him, but as the older children graduated, Will became a star. All eyes were on him to lead them to victory, and with Nationals coming up in a few months, fresh off winning Regionals, Will was incredibly focused.

Will asked Emma to meet him after school one day, but he didn't show up. She waited for twenty minutes before she impatiently made her way to the choir room, where she found him alone with his teacher. Emma watched from the doorway, Mrs Adler whispering to him gently as he focused on the keys in frustration. She was a stumpy, elderly woman, and Emma adored the way Will was with Mrs Adler. She was sweet and patient, and although Emma had never been taught by her, Mrs Adler always remembered Emma's name. To Will, Mrs Adler was his source of wisdom, of knowledge and of complete understanding, and Emma admired him so for this adoration. Emma spied the way the older woman watched him and it caused a weight to lift from Emma's chest. He was close to somebody else, too; hence, not every expectation in Will's life was resting upon her shoulders.

It was beautiful, the tranquil melody he emitted from the piano, and she couldn't interrupt them. She walked home alone, a broad smile on her face, recalling the image of her sweet boyfriend at the piano with his teacher, his features focused with intent. He had forgotten the time, and Emma had been glad. While his fingers drifted across the keys, learning difficult notes to play, Emma discovered what it meant to give a little and take a little, without her poor heart breaking at all.

They sat on his porch one afternoon after school as the copper sun went down, shoulder against shoulder; thigh against thigh. Her curls were pinned back with a French clip, her brown eyes softer than her yellow cashmere sweater. His parents had invited her to stay for dinner, still completely oblivious to the nature of the relationship between the children, just as Mr and Mrs Pillsbury were.

Will's fingers rested carefully on Emma's knee, drawing slow circles on her dark jeans with the pad of his thumb.

"Mrs Adler asked about you today." His whisper was proud, loving and significant.

She grinned, turning her head to look at him in question, "She did?"

He nodded, a blush settling over his cheeks without reason. "Yeah."

Emma raised her eyebrow as she turned her upper body to face him. Her palms pressed into the floor boards of the wooden porch as she leant back, "What did she ask?"

"How long we've been dating and stuff..." his tone conveyed obviousness as he shrugged, tapping her boot playfully with his sneaker, a boyish smirk settling upon his face.

"What did you say?" She leaned in closer to him, nudging his shoulder with her own as she linked her fingers with his.

He was unlike himself, shy and hesitant as he mumbled, "I said that we've been friends for a long time, but now we're a couple. I wasn't sure of the exact date that we became, you know, like...a couple."

"August 23rd."

His smile was crooked and gorgeous as he peered up at her, his eyes sparkling happily. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "You ran to the newsagent for me to get specialty cardboard for the assignment that I was up all night making for you for your Spanish Class. The assignment was due on August 24th. So we became a couple on August 23rd."

He cast his gaze towards the front gate, seriousness quickly drifting over his features like a tidal wave. She watched him, confused before he spoke, "I got a B- for that."

She threw her head back in subtle laughter before she countered condescendingly, "You got an A+ and a principal's award."

He shook his head, teasing as she squeezed his fingers firmly, "No, I don't think so. I'm pretty sure it was a B-..."

Will pulled back, drinking her in, her posture straight as she rested against his, the warmth from her body a comfort to him as the cool breeze of the dying season began to smoother them. They were too lost in each other to notice the suffocation.

"How does that make us a couple?" he questioned lightly.

She grinned, casting her gaze down to the wooden step at her feet, his palm warm in her own. "You stayed awake all night and until I finished it at 5am."

They were silent, blushing, allowing for innocence and recognition of emotion to finally take residence in their budding relationship. When the moment of clarity had passed, he watched her out of his peripheral vision. Her skin was perfect, smooth to touch, he knew. The freckles that dusted her alabaster skin radiated kindness and sincerity as her small smile drew them higher on her cheekbones.

"You look very pretty right now, Em."

"Thank you, Will."

"Can I kiss you?"

She nodded slowly at his husky tone, a hopeful voice that knew it's every right to display affection though never assuming it was deserving of such closeness.

His lips brushed hers tenderly, inching their way over pink flesh, swiping, caressing. She sighed as his soft lips moulded gently with hers, warming her kiss as the cool air swam around their bodies.

"You taste like butterscotch today." He whispered against her lips.

She smirked into the kiss, her tongue sweeping out quickly to wet her lips. "You taste like cookies."

She leant into him as his hands travelled to cup her face in his palms, his nimble fingers dancing across her temples as her tongue slid to rest beside his. His lips parted as hers copied the action, exploring the depth of each other that they allowed themselves to wander; wet warm flesh tangling like two pieces of a forgotten puzzle.

"Oh goodness, I'm sorry." The front door banged open, a shocked Mrs Schuester standing in the doorway.

They pulled apart quickly, Emma's hand attempting to leave Will's as she stood anxiously, almost falling off the front step in her haste to excuse herself.

"I'm sorry. I should go."

Mrs Schuester shook her head wildly, her grin wide as Emma cast her gaze towards her feet, the cobblestone path of the Schuester's home unstable beneath her feet. "No, Emma. That's silly. Please stay."

"Mom, there's something I have to tell you." Will's voice was certain and proud, confident as Emma felt a blush spread across her tiny chest like wildfire.

Mrs Schuester smiled as Will spoke from his position on the step, his hold tight on Emma's hand, afraid she would run out the front gate. "Emma and I are dating."

Will's mother nodded her head, pleased and adoring of the children before she retreated back into her home. "Well, that's wonderful."

Dinner wouldn't have been the awkward affair it was if Emma hadn't pick at her meal in humiliation for half an hour. She was unusually soft spoken in the Schuester household that night as she finished her dinner, casting small smiles across the table at Will as his knowing smirk made her blush.

She helped Will clear the table in silence, taking the plates to the sink for Mrs Schuester and suddenly, she was alone with Will's mother in the small kitchen, her breath catching in her throat as she waited for Will. He never returned with the rest of the plates.

"Emma, there's no need to be embarrassed about earlier."

She shook her head quickly, her tone wavering on edge as she dried her hands on a dry dishcloth. "Oh, I'm not."

Mrs Schuester paused, her gloved hands still as the bubbles in the sink swam around her wrists. "Yes, you are, sweetheart."

Emma hesitated before she let out a deep breath, willing herself not to cry as she leant against the counter next to Mrs Schuester. "I am a little bit."

Without hesitation, Mrs Schuester pressed her lips softly to Emma's forehead. "You make my son so happy."

Emma smiled softly, feeling her anxiety drain away as her eyes slipped shut in relief of her acceptance. The motherly gesture warmed Emma's mended soul as Will stood at the door way, witnessing the act that made his heart soar. He didn't hear the whisper from his mother, though; the whisper that allowed Emma redemption of dignity that she thought she had lost months ago upstairs in the older woman's house.

"I really like you, Emma."

And Emma's salvation was granted in the most beautiful manner.

A/N: You all have no idea how completely grateful I am for the amount of reviews I received for the last chapter. To hear your opinions and to receive your input is so special and I was thrilled. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It wasn't as provocative, but we all needed this. I did, particularly. So thank you to all who reviewed last week and all who decide to review this week, too.


	12. Regret

Emma was woken on a cool October night, as the wind howled and the branches of trees outside her bedroom window peacefully swayed like the tails of a whip. The tapping on the doors of the window brought her out of her slumber as she tiredly searched the room for the distracting noise. And there he was, standing on her balcony, motioning for her to open the shutter doors. His features were depressed and his eyes downcast as she moved to grasp a handle. She turned the lock slowly, watching him close his eyes through the glass that separated them, as he took a step back to let her out onto the balcony.

Her whisper was soft and curious as she wrapped her arms around her slender frame. "Will?" Her hip balanced the door open, "How did you get up here?"

He pressed a kiss against her lips, though it was barely a kiss. He looked nervous as he pulled back, his gaze finding the ground.

"I, umm...I'm not sure why I came. I just...I wanted to see you." She didn't have the heart to tell him that he shouldn't be there, that it was far too late and improper. She felt guilty for feeling ashamed that he was there, for the subtle anxiety that settled in her chest.

"Come inside, its freezing." He nodded at her words as he fisted his hands in his pockets.

Emma stepped out to make way for him, resting her back against the cool glass so he could slip into her bedroom in the dark of night. But he didn't move.

She watched him for a moment, concern melding with her lack of knowing what to say or do. What could possibly be the matter?

He took a step forward and she stepped back further, but suddenly he turned and his arms were around her waist, his face buried in her neck. He began to sob, cries against her skin, the flannel of her winter pyjamas dampened by his sadness. Her hand crept around his back, holding his masculine frame to her dainty self. He was warm, so very warm, but something about him felt so incredibly icy.

"What's wrong, Will?"

Another cry. More tears. The howl of the wind.

"Will, what happened?"

The cool cement beneath the soles of her small feet. His fingers digging harshly into her ribs. His neediness.

"Mrs Adler's sick."

And what could she possibly say?

"Oh."

Emma loosened her grip on him as his body slumped tiredly, exhausted by his outpour of emotion. He nodded against her shoulder, the slight stumble on his cheek brushing roughly against her neck as he continued.

"She's really sick."

Emma swallowed as he pulled back, his arms falling to his sides in defeat and depression. She wanted to reach out, to make him whole, to feel his heartbeat drum against her fingers so sweetly though, a part of her feared rejection. It was silly and only taking giant leaps back into their past, but she was understanding of the fact that her past fears that had halted the intimacy of their relationship had now consumed him in this moment. The last thing he needed was to be smothered, like he did her.

"How do you know?" His hand slipped into hers, quelling her presumption of rejection.

"She told me today at rehearsal." His gaze found hers as she ushered him into the room, their fingers tangled in a knot of gentle consideration.

"I'm sure she'll be fine, Will." She locked the door quietly, shutting out the cold, as his fingers slipped from hers.

He sat on the end of her bed in a daze, knowing all that he did and rejoicing in the understanding. It was negative to think the worst, but he had never doubted such an honest verse that uttered from his best friend's lips.

He shook his head softly as she stood in the middle of the room awkwardly; trying to make sense of all this and wondering what the hell it was she was supposed to do now.

To touch him?

To kiss him?

To make him leave?

She whispered softly, asking him to do the same with the gentle tone of her voice. "I'm going to get you a glass of water."

He whipped his head around, a suggestion plaguing his mind and he allowed it to roll from his tongue. "Let's go to the lake, Em."

The volume he used was average, but it scared her into shock. "Will, no."

"Please, Emma." There it was again, the loudness in the quiet of the night, enough to wake her parents.

She shook her head slowly, defying his only wish as his eyes pleaded with her to share something far greater than they had ever experienced. His eyes brimmed with tears as she left him behind, closing the door slowly behind her as she moved to the kitchen, her bare feet padding softly down the stairs.

She crept at a snail's pace up the staircase, avoiding the steps that she knew would creak and adding greater pressure on certain spots. The water tipped from side to side of the glass. She felt pathetic. Emma had no experience with illness or death and she was awkward when it came to consoling people. And so, as the half full cup weighed as a half empty amount between her palm and fingers, she carried an essence of life to her best friend, because it was all she knew how to give.

"Emma, what on earth are you doing?"

As she reached the top step, there her mother was, a long navy nightgown intimidating the smaller redhead as her mother blended with the night. The older woman stood at her own bedroom door, obviously waiting for her daughter to retreat back to her room.

The words caught in her throat. "I...I don't know." She truly didn't.

"Why is Will in your bedroom?"

Emma swallowed, afraid to be miserable. "He's upset."

Her mother didn't move, and neither did Emma. She wondered if gravity would have been kind enough to send her flying backwards, so that she wouldn't have to deal with her judgemental mother and the concern that was so obviously present. "It's 11pm on a school night."

Emma nodded to the darkness, needing to leave her mother for so many reasons. She needed regret to plague her mother's senses; to have the adult comprehend all that Emma had never been given; all the things that were never said. "He'll go soon, Mom."

Emma's toes brushed against hard wooden floors as she made gentle steps toward safety, toward her bedroom. "You're not being inappropriate with Will, are you?"

And there it began, a web of recognition; what was right and what was wrong. Emma was held captive in the centre as her mother held her there- were it all began. If only she had been told, shown how to love somebody, how to be loved in return.

"No, mother." Sighing in embarrassment and dishonesty, she shaded her humiliation with denial as she moved to her doorframe, gripped the door knob.

"I hear you sometimes with him. And I see the way he looks at you. Don't be a stupid girl, Emma. I raised you to be so much better than that."

Emma's grip on the door knob tightened, as did the rest of her body. She had never wanted so badly to be respected, to be understood. And there was a boy on the other side of the door who could give her that and she could return such perfect love.

It was like a melody, a line that could be read so perfectly in a play. The words bounced from one actor to another, wise and innocent, sweet and fierce.

"I think he loves me."

"Don't let him love you, Emma."

Emma cast her gaze away, towards the floor, focusing blindly on her bare toes, frosty against the hard wooden floorboards. Her whisper was insecure and gentle as she defied, "You don't get to tell me who I can love."

When she raised her glare it met her mother's tearful gaze, cold and sympathetic. She looked in pity at her only daughter, regretful of all she had never shared and all that she wanted to. Then the older redhead closed her bedroom door softly behind her, just like that.

Emma stood alone in the hallway, a glass of water in hand, speechless and shocked.

Loneliness was perhaps her deepest regret for her mother and her former self. Though, not now, not with Will waiting for her.

That night, in Emma's arms, he cried- for Mrs Adler, and Emma, and for himself. Mostly for himself.

She whispered, soft and gentle, her breath warm on the shell of his ear. She told him how kind he was. She breathed in his ear how she adored him, as her best friend and so much more. Emma was beautiful in his arms, so warm and fragile as she swept his tears away with her thumbs. She told him of her dream the night before; that he kissed her by the lake for the first time in her life, and she smiled against his cheek as she admitted that she preferred the reality of their first kiss. She whispered of how good it felt to have his thumbs brush her naked nipples, to have their wet torsos rubbing deliciously together. Her delicious confessions were made in a litany, to remind him that he was loved, so very loved, no matter who he lost.

As his heartbeat slowed against her stomach, his face buried between her breasts, she felt utterly complete and needed.

Sadness would come to haunt them soon enough. Depression, in the coming months, would inspire such artful closeness that no other emotion could provide. And this discovery, of unspeakable sorrow, would turn their worlds into flames of desire.

AN: I am so very sorry that I have not updated for such a long time. Uni work can be exhausting, to say the least. I have had a few reviewers ask if this is ending soon and it is definitely not, be any means. These characters have a long way to go.

I really want to start including Spring Awakening concepts and depth, so if you could pick some in this chapter, I'm really glad.

As always, thank you so much for your reviews. They really mean the world to me. Thoughts?


	13. Curiosity

It knocked Emma over like a wave of despair, like a tumbling wall of sorrow, when she saw the older woman in the choir room on Thursday. Sunlight didn't filter through the high windows like it usually did on a Thursday morning and a soft melody didn't hum in practice. The cold wind howled outside the room, as Mrs Adler sat before the piano, sorting through sheet music, her features tired and gaunt.

"Mrs Adler?"

She turned slowly, locking eyes with Emma. Her glasses were low on her nose as her nimble fingers sorted through a box of sheet music, her eyes obviously red rimmed from either crying or illness.

"Emma. What can I do for you?"

There was no reason that was plausible.

"Nothing, I just came by to see you."

A tranquil smile that faked happiness was provided by the teacher.

"Oh, that's lovely dear."

Emma smiled, Mrs Adler smiled, and the communication was cut as the music teacher returned her focus to the sheet music rudely.

"I heard you weren't feeling well," Emma started, breaking the silence as the older woman partilly ignored Emma. "Will told me that you weren't feeling well."

Mrs Alder turned at the boy's name, finding Emma's eyes and locking with them, unnerving Emma profoundly. Intimidation transpired to heartbreak and Emma considered moving to hold the woman, like she'd hold Will to console him amiably.

"Can I help you with that sheet music?"

"No, thank you, Emma. I'm just getting rid of some old sheet music."

Realisation set in, overwhelming Emma as she recognised why. The room was being cleared because Mrs Adler was leaving. Did Will know?

"Are you leaving, Mrs Adler?"

Mrs Adler turned on the piano chair, her hands dropping a significantly large stack of sheet music on the piano keys carelessly, causing a few notes to play in singularity.

"Emma, is Will very upset?" Mrs Adler's eyes flitted from the doorway to the young redhead. And then she continued. "He hasn't been at rehearsal for a week, since I told him about my diagnosis."

Emma's lips were dry.

"He didn't tell me about your diagnosis."

Mrs Adler's right eyebrow raised and Emma felt incredibly stupid for being in the position she was in.

"He's a very sensitive boy, Emma. Just be careful with him and watch out for him, okay?"

Could she promise this woman such a thing? Could Emma promise herself to complete such a gratifying task?

"I have to go. I hope you feel better soon."

And Emma didn't look back.

That afternoon found them by the lake, the cold wind sweeping around them. It was really far too cold to be outside, but they were rugged up in their warm coats and boots, a scarf around Emma's neck as she leaned against the tree. The earth was cool beneath her thighs as the wind swept her hair around her face softly, as Will spread his form across the grass next to her.

They had been doing this a lot lately, finding time to just be together. Emma had told Will about what her mother had said that night, and he had felt obnoxious in Emma's home ever since. So he didn't go back. They spent the afternoons bathing in the sun the following week after Will came to Emma's home in the dark of night, and they liked it that way.

She meant to tell Will about her visit with Mrs Adler, but there was never a right time and Emma didn't know if she wanted there to be one. There was nothing pleasant to say about the quiet meeting and Emma knew that sometimes, it was better to just keep her thoughts to herself.

Time at school was spent in different classes- Emma in English extension class and Will in Spanish. They didn't share any classes together, except English advanced, and Emma was usually in her superior creative mindset in that class, so they didn't have much time to talk. Time spent apart added up to challenge the time that they spent together, so they both made as much effort that they possibly could to be available, in every way.

Will's palm rested on Emma's calf, rubbing slow, sweet circles as she smiled down at him lovingly. The small touch set her skin on fire, ironically causing goose bumps to rise on her neck. There was no place for subtlety in their relationship, though the whispered enquiry still made him blush when it left Emma's lips.

"Do you want to make love to me, Will?"

His head ducked as a curious grin broke out on her face, her body addicted to his desire and lust.

His words were hot and affectionate, his devotion unguarded as she watched him choke his answer, "Yes."

"Do you think about it a lot?" Emma asked quietly, bending her head to catch his gaze.

He looked up slowly, his emotions drowning in her eyes. "All the time, Em. I...I can't stop thinking about it." He almost looked pained.

Her agreement was lustful and optimistic, laced with a hint of need, "Me, too."

He sat up on his knees, asking for her attention as her eyes locked with his, feeling all that he wanted to reveal. He saw himself in her eyes, his transition from who he was to who she wanted him to be, to who they both were together.

"It haunts me. In my dreams."

His confession assaulted her immature pride that was previously provoked by his lustful words. Emma's mind was ridded of all that wasn't real as his eyes bore into hers, dramatic and loud. And he finally found her.

"When we make love, I want it to be here by the lake." His words were impressionable, as her features remained focused. She brought her hand up t hover between them, unsure and so incredibly in love.

Her hand came to rest above his heart, as the words tumbled from her lips in a whisper so quiet that the angels of sin below couldn't hear. "I would like that very much."

Will kissed her then, hard and pure, as his palm rested on her jaw line, his fingers splayed across her smooth cheek. She rested against the tree as he hovered over her, needing to be so close, closer than they had ever been. He wanted to cry as the wind howled around them, burning his naked ears as his tongue found solace next to hers.

He pulled back, short of breath, as the flesh of his lips cold as their intimacy was broken.

"I don't think I'm ready yet, Em."

She pulled her hand back, saddened by his confession. It felt like heaven to be with him, a dark paradise where lust wasn't labelled and desire was defined as an emotion greater than love.

"Okay. I just want you to know, whenever you are, I am, too."

Will nodded slowly, smoothing his palm over her smooth cheek with gentle ease.

"I want it to be really special for us."

She shook her head, her gaze boring deep into his.

"It will be."

If they only knew how intimacy could ruin them, they could have stopped right there and recognised that what they had was beautiful. Will could have made love to Emma in the cold wind against the tree and it would have been remarkable. Pleasure would have swarmed their senses and regret would not be an emotion to be registered, because they had given each other such a sweet gift in the most picturesque setting, a setting which was their own. A setting which defined them.

His lips rested on the shoulder of her coat as he grasped both of her hands in each of his own. He held them tightly in his grasp, her dainty fingers which he had playfully kissed last Monday by the lake as her laughter assaulted his senses.

"I'm in love with you, Em."

As he released a deep breath as his head rested against her shoulder, she turned her head, her soft pink lips finding his temple. In the years to come, would they remember this moment? "I love you."

Silence. Wind. Death.

"Come on, let me walk you home. It's too cold to be out here."

In the coming days, innocence would surrender to a force which would define them as individuals and as a unit. And along the way, it would ruin them, too.

AN: Thank you for your reviews, I can't say it enough. Feelings?


	14. Depth

'**Now our bodies are the guilty ones. Who touch, and colour the hours.' – Spring Awakening **

Emma received the letter on a Friday afternoon, the last day of school. Finally, acceptance was found. The letter was post marked 'New York City, New York', and the enclosed letter had formally accepted Miss Emma Pillsbury into the Dramatic Writing Program at Tisch School of Arts at NYU. There was no more settling for second best, for Ohio State as an English teacher. Farewell to study sessions with Will in the College library, as images of a pen held before a clean journal as the young redhead sat alone in Central Park filled that gap in Emma's heart and mind.

The letter, detailing the commencement of the course in nine days, was stashed between _Pride and Prejudice_ and _Wuthering Heights_ on her bookcase. She wasn't torn, but she wasn't prepared either. How could she possibly tell Will that she wouldn't be joining him at OSU? He would be completely heartbroken. They had been discussing their future together since prom and well after final exams and graduation. To tell him that she would be leaving Ohio would be hard, but it was harder to imagine leaving without a goodbye.

And what a horrid goodbye it would be.

As they walked down Main Street on Friday night after a film, hot chocolate in hand as the wind blew around them, she whispered her secret.

His face registered more emotions in one minute than she could possibly describe. She waited for an argument, or at least minor trepidation as a result of sadness and disappointment, but he smiled.

And it was real. An honest, delightful smile as he confessed he was so happy for her, that she was getting what she wanted most.

She ached to tell him that he was who she wanted most, but she was afraid he would then question her decision to leave him, so she didn't. He asked if she had yet to tell her parents and she nodded, confessed that she wanted him to be the first to know, as he was the most influential and important person in her life. He kissed her then, long and hard, and whispered his love for her in the middle of the naked street, his lips tangling with hers as they both craved something tangible that would cause bliss to break over them.

He suggested ways that they could be together, drives he would make to New York and flights she could take that would get her to him in less than an hour. She was pleased and relieved, but calmness didn't completely console her. She wanted to see jealousy in his eyes, to know that he needed her, because she missed that so very much.

On Saturday afternoon, Emma found herself climbing the few steps up to Will's front porch. The front door was open, the house quiet as she called his name down the hallway. She removed her coat, hanging it carefully by the door as she closed it behind her, curious and hesitant. She had only taken four steps down the hallway when she peered into the living room to find Will splayed across the carpet, staring perplexedly at the ceiling.

"Hey, Will."

No answer. Was this the jealous she had anticipated and desired?

"Where are your parents?" As the question escaped her lips, his fingers pinched the end of the frayed rug lightly.

His eyes drifted shut as she watched his chest heave, breath leaving in a tired rush between his perfect lips. "Out."

"Where?" She continued with the question, making an effort with trivial conversation.

"At my grandparents for lunch."

Silence. Emma peered down to the hard wooden floor beneath her brown lace up boots.

"Will, I can see that you are apparently angry that I've accepted the offer, but I wish you would just be happy that-"

"Mrs Adler died two hours ago."

The blood rushed to her head in shock and blatant misunderstanding. His eyes opened to gauge her reaction, her lips parted and plain.

"Oh God," As nervousness overwhelmed Emma, she found it increasingly difficult to breathe. She moved closer, standing before his splayed legs, offering her comforting gaze which he rejected as he shut his eyelids again.

"I'm so sorry, Will." And she could feel his pain as her skin broke out in goosebumps.

She knelt down at his side, taking his hand that rested against the edge of the maroon rug, clasping it tightly between her own.

He pulled on her hand and she lay down beside him, her body moulded against his side, her breasts pressed against his chest as he began to cry, to sob and whimper.

Emma rested an arm over his chest to hold him to her, her fingers digging into his ribs as she buried her face in his neck, her anxiety peaking as she fought the urge to cry. His warm palm that wasn't clasping hers slipped between the rug and her side to rest on the small of her back, pulling him against his side roughly as his uneven breaths warmed her skin. It was an exquisite sensation that had no place in the moment, an intimacy that was too wise for them to experience. She pressed her lips against his neck ever so lightly, a single kiss that spoke a thousand words to silence.

Will held onto her tighter, wrapping a leg around her lower half, as he always did by the lake. His tears were warm against her naked neck, pouring endlessly in desolation as her soft red curls tickled his jaw.

The room was quiet, entertaining only their troubled spirits, but as Emma's soft kisses on Will's perfect skin relaxed him, his emotions became raw. His neck inclined towards her lips as they parted beneath his smooth skin, which smelled of soap. Her tongue peeked between her lips as he almost smothered her with his skin, desperate for affection in his darkest hour yet, the taste of salt clouding her senses. Her head rested against the rug softly as he pulled back to gauge her reaction again, finding a distinct clarity in her brown orbs.

And then his lips crashed down upon hers, and it was indescribably imperfect. His kisses were clumsy on her smooth skin, his wet lips hungry as tears fell from the ends of his eyelashes, little pearls of despair. His body shook against her as a choked whimper of humility escaped between her dry lips amongst kisses.

"Will, you're so upset." Her hand left his palm and came to rest on his face as she pulled back, scooting herself onto her back to place distance between them. Her attempt was rejected as his hand only slid from her side to rest on her abdomen, holding her to him unsurely as he watched her eyes, regret beginning to pool in the form of tears.

He immediately retracted his gaze, moving his glare to his hand that rested between her two most intimate areas, two sweet curves that haunted his dreams and the wet, warm place he desired to rest his own weakness in forever. He could feel the heat of her body beneath his palm as he felt her eyes watch his hand, as they always did.

His fingers led the way across her body as his palm followed, inching over her chest as she bit her bottom lip in quiet contemplation. She wasn't refusing him and he was tired of hurting so terribly, so it wasn't long before his hands wandered aimlessly over her chest as his heavy leg rested over her thighs, a dead weight.

She wanted to stop, to tell him to pull away, to leave her be and not use her body to make his pain go away. Is this how he had felt every time she abused their intimacy? She had no idea it could feel like this. He was almost suffocating her, but she was the loneliest she had ever been.

Words refused her, the ultimate rejection. She knew language better than she knew herself. Emma knew what words could do to a person. Somewhere in the process of this denial, Will had managed to unbutton her thick cardigan. They had done this before, more than this. He would stop soon. A chorus of thoughts were running through her mind as he continued to undress her torso, leaving her bare. The cold metal press studs of her singlet were ripped apart by his strong hands in his haste to feel her skin, his kisses pressing adamantly on the soft skin of her navel.

His lips attached to her nipple, suckling like a child. She was caught in momentary bliss, as his world crumbled around him and he connected his lips to her perfect, perky breasts like a lifeline of nourishment. Emma's fingers came to tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck, her dainty strokes providing enormous comfort as he lapped at her breast. She felt tears on the contours of her chest as he licked a path around the curve of her right breast to the left, his warm palm wandering over her navel.

Emma attempted to sit up, but he straddled her, pressing her back down against the carpet gently as his breath became ragged against her freckled skin.

"Please, let me make love to you." He lusted after her body, while he loved her for her heart and mind, and in that moment, in his desperate plea, she learnt that. This was what their whole relationship was about-lust. And in the process of discovering pleasure, they had been hurt by love in so many ways, learning to understand the most important part of life-communication.

"No, Will."

The sun gleamed through the windows. It was a perfect day. It was cold, but it wasn't windy. Trees didn't sway, birds only chirped happily.

"But you're ready, Em..."

"You aren't, Will."

"I am." As he refuted her statement, his fingers curled around the rim of her panties beneath her skirt, pushing them hastily down her thighs as she closed her eyes tightly. He contributed to her anxiety as he continued selfishly, "Let me feel you."

She swallowed harshly as she willed away a panic attack, trying to piece together a short monologue in her mind that would refuse Will his greatest desire with careful ease.

Though, as she listened to the clink and scratch of metal as he unbuckled his belt, her thought process seemed to falter and it was as though her soul left her body at that moment. At the sound of a zipper, her eyes screwed shut and her lips parted. His knees knocked against hers as she felt denim slide down his legs. Her skirt was bunched up around her waist as he rested his knees on either side of hers. Her soft skin pressed against his strong, hairy legs, her panties resting mind calf. She wondered if his boxers had been cast aside, too.

"Not like this, Will."

Her boots were still on, and she regretted lacing them so tightly around her ankles. It felt like her circulation was being cut.

"I can't lose you, too." He sounded detached, just like Emma.

She anticipated that silk would touch her exposed core as he moved to press against her, but the tip of his naked manhood frightened her as hell held his arms open to the whimpering, distressed girl.

And then her best friend was finally inside of her. Flesh against flesh, soul against soul.

"Are you okay, Em?" He shivered as her chest ached.

Against her innermost feelings of regret and overwhelming sadness, she nodded.

There were no whispers of adoration, or love, or promises for sweet futures in the sun. Pain overwhelmed Emma entirely and her body caught ablaze as Will grunted with each thrust, tears rolling from his eyes in bent up emotion before he buried his face in Emma's neck. Her body slid against the carpet with each careless movement.

She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He was gentle and devastated, and so she held him to her, her only safety in the storm her afternoon had become. She was shipwrecked as whimpers escaped Will's lips. She wanted to comfort him, to love him, but she couldn't help to despise him.

It would be okay, she told herself. They would be together forever. He had given so much of himself to her, already. What was happening in this moment was only physical. He loved her and she loved him. They had the rest of their lives to make sweet, sweet love with a singular purpose.

The moment she tried to reason with herself, to remind herself that he was hurting so completely, and that her loss was nothing compared to his, his tears stopped and his thrusts became wild, until he eventually spilled his release into her for the very first time. His body shook more so than previously and her thoughts were halted for many years to come.

They lay there like that for a long while, his hands cupping her bare behind in the palms of his hands, her legs bent at the knee as he softened inside of her.

Emma was scared, so incredibly scared. Threat of pregnancy loomed at the forefront of her mind, dispelling the utter devastation in losing her virginity in such a circumstance. The soft skin between her behind and her back rubbed harshly against the rough rug of Will's living room floor as the heels of her boots pressed flatly against the floor.

He pulled back as she felt a wetness seep from her, a mark of both of their betrayal and lust.

Realisation dawned on both as they realised their mistakes.

"God, Em."

Seconds, minutes, days of silence. He should have worshipped her. She should have worshipped him.

"I'm so sorry."

Emma was violently ill that night. She couldn't eat, she couldn't sleep and she fainted twice. Her body ached and her mind simply didn't work.

What scared her most was that she would never be able to write again, to have the luxury and talent to pick up a pen and tell a story that wasn't littered with disgust and regret.

Emma wasn't waiting for him by the fence in the car park Sunday morning.

In fact, he never found her waiting for him again.

The next time he found her was eleven years later, by total and complete chance. Chance, and death.

Those you've known, they linger until they find you, and nothing is the same until you know that they have found you.

And those you've pained, they carry that still with them.

**AN:** This is not the end and there is so much more to come and I really hope you trust me with what I do. I know a lot of people will not like this, but there was a warning in the beginning and I feel that I owe it to myself and my versions of these characters, that I am solely controlled by my own ideas. I'm not sure when the next update will be, but as you will learn with this chapter, we are farewelling time. Thank you so much for reading part one of Just Like That and I cannot wait to begin writing part two. Thank you, logicallychaotic, for all of your encouragement and I want to dedicate this chapter to you.


	15. Humility

**Part Two**

Hurt kept him from making contact with her. Not his own pain, but the pain he had inflicted upon her that he was aware had ruined her in a devastating manner.

He watched his high school sweetheart grow into a woman through her perfectly painted words. First, it was when the local community centre posted a 'Short Creative Piece' by 'Emily Pillsberry' on the town bulletin board. Emma's work had been published by a very small New York newspaper for the New York City Creative Writers, on the very back page. Will knew she had finally made it, and it made his heart soar.

Every month he would search libraries and university catalogues for work by Emma Pillsbury, and he would often come across small pieces here and there. When he left university and moved out of home for good, he signed up to have the New York Writing Society magazine sent to his apartment quarterly, discovering a piece by Emma each season, her stories improving in detail and structure.

He missed her, and so he learned her characters, needing to share the intimacy of her words.

She had written a novel four years ago, when he was twenty-five and she was twenty four and he had been the first to buy it. It was an interesting read to say the least, and he had completed it within forty-eight hours. It was the last thing he expected to read from her and as soon as the last page was turned, he felt the need to ask her a litany of questions.

Emma didn't hear a word about Will, and it was easier that way.

It was winter when he found her in the cafe in greater Lima, a twenty minute drive from their hometown where it all began- and ended. Will watched her as she waited patiently for her coffee order. It was busy, crowded in the tiny cafe, and as each order was read, Will anticipated that Emma would move forward to collect her coffee. The monotonous voice of the middle aged woman behind the counter rang through his ear, keeping him in the present.

"Two flat whites."

Was she married now? He hadn't read so.

"One babycino, one hot chocolate and two lattes."

She didn't have a family. At least, he hadn't read so.

"One hot chocolate with extra cocoa."

She wasn't seventeen anymore.

And then he heard it, her lovely voice. Pained, but lovely.

"Yes, that's me." Judging from her order, apparently she was still seventeen. Some things never change.

He watched her as she reached forward for the take away cup, her large brown eyes appearing thankful for the warm beverage. Her long fingers curled around the cardboard for warmth and he watched a shiver run through her as a heat spread through her veins. She was the same Emma, only more beautiful.

He hadn't even ordered yet.

Will let the school girl behind him jump the line so that he could gain a better view of the redhead and he stood closer to the back of the messy, disordered line of people waiting to place their order.

She looked so incredibly intelligent.

Her hair was straight, not as sweet as it was almost 11 years ago, but she radiated a certain maturity that made his heart ache. Her coat looked expensive, one which would most probably make other women jealous. She appeared to be so refined.

He spied her from his position, his head sneaking between customers moving around the cafe. He watched intently as she neatly stacked two packets of sugar together, lining the edges together perfectly before tearing a corner. Emma was careful as she poured her sugar into the cup, destroying the romantic swirl of dusted cocoa that patterned the foamed milk.

A man in a dark suit had moved to stand next to her. Will couldn't see her hands, her gentle movements as she sweetened her hot chocolate. If the man just moved to the left, slightly. There. Will could see her again. She was reaching for a spoon...no, wait, a lid. As her nimble fingers clawed two lids apart, the man reached across Emma's arm, over the counter to the containers marked 'raw sugar', 'white sugar' and 'artificial sweetener'.

The haste with which Emma withdrew her hand from close to the man's resembled a kitten that had been hosed down. The business man smiled, warm and friendly, his eyes meeting with those of the woman who once loved Will dearly. Jealousy consumed Will. Was it always tis easy for Emma? Did men fawn over her the way women fawned over him? Were there always flirty men flashing their pearly whites at her in cafes and restaurants, attempting to pick up a pretty girl to fool around with until their wives found out?

"Sir?"

Emma's eyes diverted from those of Donald Trump's, her hair falling over her face, her cheeks tinging a pale shade of red as they did when she was a girl- when she was Will's girl, in his arms, her features exhausted by orgasm.

"Sir, what would you like?"

Emma was leaving, hot chocolate in hand, making her way towards Will.

"Do you know what you want, Mr Schuester?"

Will recognised the dark skinned girl behind the counter as a previous student, her smile almost as beautiful as Emma's. Her voice rang loud as she questioned her ex Spanish teacher, loud enough to cause the two women waiting for their order where Emma had previously been standing to turn abruptly.

Emma saw him before he had a chance to dispel the awkwardness of his embarrassment.

"Will?"

Alarm lit her experienced eyes and he was selfishly proud that he could make her so uneasy though, as seconds passed and he attempted to form a response, disgust plagued his emotions, too.

She stood like a deer caught in headlights, desperate to move though, seemingly unable to. Her soul appeared to be exhausted, while her eyes looked like she had been silenced for too long.

Troubled by pure shock and fear of emotion, their struggle was the attempt to deliver casual humility.

**AN:** I realise that this is very short, but I felt the need to have a prologue to part two, as it will have a great number of chapters. I am so glad that most people weren't offended or disappointed by the last chapter. I got a few reviews that mentioned that they perceived what happened between Will and Emma in the last chapter to have a similar theme to rape, and if you have ever seen Spring Awakening, it kind of is like that, and it was my intention. I realise that it was dramatic and out of character for Will, but sometimes the characters we love the most can be selfish, too. Anyway! Enough rambling! I hope you enjoy part two! And thank you again for all of these wonderful reviews and your interest!


	16. Sorrow

"Hi, Emma."

She looked pained, her features horrified and troubled. And then she smiled.

The attention Will had summoned moments before dissolved the moment Will stepped out of the order line, and so shyness and discomfort was only caused by the fact that they had both run into their childhood sweethearts.

Will rejoiced in her smile and offered his own, wide and excited, until Emma's faded. Her small gesture of friendliness was simply a dismissive pass to get away from the situation as soon as she could.

Just Like That, she was gone once again, walking right past him as she pushed her way out the busy door way. So, he followed her.

She was already three shops down the main street before he caught up to her, making his way behind her as her heels clicked their way down the side walk hurriedly.

"Are you married?"

She spun around at his voice; her eyes wide as though she hadn't expected to see him there, hadn't expected him to follow her.

She looked crestfallen as she considered Will's question, depressed though not disappointed. "No." It was selfish, but he liked that she wasn't.

"Are you?" He question was more polite than inquisitive, as though she was making small talk to appear to make an effort.

"No." And he offered a smile.

She didn't offer as such, her straight red hair falling softly over her eyes as she queried, "You still live here?"

"Yes. I teach at McKinley, actually." He was proud of all that he had achieved, proud to be a role model for young children, especially his Glee Club. He hadn't achieved the success that she had, but he never got tired of telling people what his most important life choice was.

She grinned slowly at his smug smile, offering some conversation as she turned and led the way down the side walk. "So you got that education degree after all?"

"Yep."

In her heart of hearts, she was happy for him. "Great."

"What have you been doing with yourself?" he asked lamely. There were so many questions he needed the answers to, personal questions that he wasn't allowed to ask. He didn't have the right to ask anymore, and not due to the time that had passed.

"I umm...I'm just visiting for a bit. Not for long, just a few weeks." And that's all she gave him.

She hesitated as she gestured to what he assumed was her car. How odd for her to own a car when she lived in the busiest city in the world. Emma stretched her arm out slightly and aimed the keys in her hand at the bonnet of the car. The red bulbs above her headlights flashed brightly across the gravel of the road, as he watches her from the footpath. So much time, and such profound change.

She was stunning, so profoundly beautiful.

"I should go, Will." Even the way she said his name was dramatic.

He searched for something to say, anything to keep her. That was it- the moment he had waited for, desired from a safe distance for the past decade.

"Do you want to catch up while you're in town?" he asked as she pulled her car door open, hiding behind the barrier of the metallic blue driver's door.

"We just caught up." It was like a blow to his confidence. Rejection as he knew it.

"We could catch up some more..." He was trying so hard he sounded frantic.

He wanted to love her. It had been so long.

"I don't think so."

"You haven't got the time?" he didn't want to challenge her, but it sounded like it.

"I...umm..." And her bitchy facade was shattered as she became the flustered girl he once knew.

"Why don't you come to McKinley and teach a workshop while you're here?"

"I don't know how to teach, Will."

"Well then, just write. Just write and let them watch you. They can learn that way." She almost melted at the certainty of his tone, the depth of his faith in her uncharted.

"I don't write anymore." One leg in the car. "It was good to see you after all these years, Will." She was sitting down and reaching to close the door. Her engine was turned on.

The boy inside of him nearly died.

He ran in front of her car, taping his hand on the bonnet to regain the attention she denied him. She looked up, again appearing surprised to see him making his way to her window, as though he hadn't been standing on the sidewalk beside her car in perfect view. He waved his hand, gesturing for her to roll the window down. She spied him inquisitively, unsure as to whether she should.

He flapped his hand again, and she complied. The glass edged down slowly, halfway until their eyes met for the first honest moment in 11 years. He bent down to her level, moving closer for her to hear his words

A moment passed and they were silent. He knew that if she were still the girl with big curly red hair, tears would have pooled in her eyes at the intimacy of his insistence.

"I don't know what to say to you, Em."

The shortening of her name was like a dagger to her heart. Her throat closed up and she found it hard to breathe. How could hate still consume her? He had aged so sweetly. The years had been so kind to him.

Her words were laced with irrelevance and refusal.

"You didn't get your coffee."

He took a moment to register her words, and when he understood her denial, he nodded and straightened his posture.

She eyed him off, her gaze restricting him from touching her heart any deeper.

"Go and get it." She was confident as she inadvertently told him what was best, how to handle the situation they had found themselves in, because the way he was standing by her car on the sidewalk told her that he was still the boy that was sometimes removed from his own being.

"Go and get it and we'll go for a drive."

He registered her words and practically dived on the opportunity to be with her again, his eyes lighting up as she cast her gaze down towards the steering wheel. She looked like she had just regretted her words, though her regret was not illustrated as plain. It was the regret that comes with grief, of what though, Will wasn't sure.

"Are you sure?" he asked, needing her approval.

"Yeah. Otherwise, you'll have a really bad day and I can't have that on my conscience."

If only she knew how guilt played on his conscience like Mrs Adler's manipulative fingers on the piano in the choir room.

"I haven't been home yet," she told him as they made their way along the path that led to the lake, a place Emma hadn't been near for such a long time.

"Why not?" he asked curiously.

"My mother doesn't know I'm moving back to Lima for a few weeks."

He nodded at her response, watching her out of his peripheral vision as she held the hot chocolate in her hands tightly, warming the chill that surrounded them.

"Emma, I'm sorry about your father. He was a good man."

She shook her head, waved her dainty hand, made a sound with her lips and her tongue that dismissed his sincerity.

"That was years ago, Will."

He cocked his head to the side in question of her nonchalant attitude, his response clarifying the profoundness of her loss. "It was one year ago."

She didn't say anything, so he continued on that note. "I went to the funeral." She bit her lip as his sweet voice continued, and his feet stopped stepping along the path. They came to a standstill. "You weren't there, Emma."

The way he used her name in the statement made her chest heave with guilt and remorse. "I had other commitments."

"Oh," he replied. And who was he to judge her decisions?

"Have you been back here?" she changed the subject without warning, not caring to discuss the issue any longer as she continued down the path, Will finding his place beside her again after a few steps.

He considered not telling her the truth, protecting her from the truth that he had shared himself with other women after he had ruined Emma. He felt like he owed her something and he felt unfaithful, and so he simply nodded.

"By yourself?" she asked slowly, hurt cursing her tone.

"No, with a friend." His conclusion was open to a wide range of possibilities, but her mind played with only one.

It was quiet for minute long seconds as they eventually reached the spot where it all began. She envisioned them by the tree, curled up together as Will stroked her body to bliss. She saw herself naked in the lake, her nipple caught softly between Will's thumb and forefinger, his warm palm resting on her bare lower back. Children consumed by desire, not riddled with the fear that they now were.

Will's voice broke the silence, strong and rough, encapsulating the essence of purity. "It never used to be like this between us. The awkwardness, I mean."

Emma swallowed as the teenage scenes played on in her head like home video footage. "Yeah, well, things change. People disappoint you."

His head felt heavy as he tried to formulate his words.

"I want to apologise, Emma. For what I did to you." Her gaze met the ground. "What I took from you."

She looked intensely at the grass beneath her heels, the grass she used to lay her sweet, unscathed body upon and write.

"It's no big deal," was her dishonest response.

He shook his head, remembering how they used to be. "It was everything our lives revolved around." She looked out to the lake, the opposite direction as Will turned his head to watch her. "You just left."

She nodded out to the edge of the lake, the curve that halted the pool of water. "I had to leave for my course."

Will continued his whisper. "You didn't say goodbye."

She coughed softly, new gesture he was beginning to recognise as a nervous habit.

He expected an apology, even though he knew he didn't deserve it. Instead, she played a card he hadn't even considered. "Neither did you. You knew when I was leaving."

"You didn't leave like that because it was too hard to say goodbye." The truth was, she was shattered and humiliated by his actions, and he knew it better than he knew himself.

Still, she refused as she moved to sit down, spreading her legs under her as she did as a girl. He noticed that they were longer, sexier beneath flimsy nylon. "Yes, I did."

"No." He sighed deeply from his standing position. "You left without a goodbye because I hurt you so deeply. And for that, I am so irrevocably sorry."

She turned her head to gaze up at him; her eyes cast over with pain, though no tears. In the past months, she had used more than she had to express. And then realisation of her visible vulnerability set in, and she quickly offered a weak smile to gloss her trauma.

"Will, it's in the past. Move on."

How could he move on when she obviously hadn't? Guilt and sorrow kept his heart captured, under the same lock and key it had been for the last eleven years. He would have given up everything for her to be able to know how much he wanted to go home to her. He needed to breathe her, though more than her words.

If he hadn't followed her work, read everything that she'd ever published, maybe he would have believed her. If he hadn't known how desperately her characters craved something more, something deeper that had been removed from their lives, he would have at least considered he to be unscathed by his destruction. But Emma was so very broken.

They didn't speak for much longer, and what they did speak about, was trivial. She mentioned a few of her works that had been published while he nodded and pretended to be surprised by her success.

She had opted to stay longer by the lake, and he offered to wait with her, until she was ready to go home. He was on the verge of offering his spare bedroom as another resort, but his teeth sharply trapped his sweet, dangerous tongue.

Not two minutes after he arrived home did he have 'Under Her Palm', a novel she had written four years ago, open in his own palm. It hadn't been her most successful novel, but it was his favourite- it was the only one where he could really see her. It was one of her firsts, and although it hadn't exactly been a bestseller, there was no mistaking the quality of the writing.

And so, that evening, he read. He read 'Under Her Palm' until two am, cover to cover, trying to understand her pain and how he could save her along with himself. It was hard, to decipher the metaphors behind the different scenes she placed her characters in. Sometimes, he got too caught up in the plot that he found it difficult to recall why he was reading it-studying her words- for the eighteenth time in eight years.

At 5pm, he was on page one, the red headed writer introducing Will to Lana, the protagonist, through narration. As the writer, Emma would stand back from the destruction and detail so observantly the pain and deceit that took place, horror which she herself had experienced so deeply. When 7pm ticked by, Lana had already fallen into a pit of fatal love with Lee, the older man who knew absolutely nothing. By 12pm, Will had reached the climax of the novel, a chapter that left his pants tight in arousal. Emma Pillsbury had taken him to bed with Lee and Lana, causing Will to shift uncomfortably between his bed sheets, his glasses low on his nose as Lana rode out the most powerful orgasm of her life.

Where did Emma gain her inspiration? Every novel was different, each character altered profoundly, but it all came back to rejection, power-play and disappointment.

Will was her muse, and his betrayal set her free, giving her the experience to create for herself brilliant masterpieces of literature.

By 2am the next morning, the last page was turned and the hardcover closed, Will's chest tight and his limbs miserable. His conclusion was that he was the reason her recorded imaginings of intimate relationships ended in depression and rejection, disappointment and ruin. It was always Will.

And one way or another, he would fix that.

AN: The reviews for the last chapter were so nice, and I thank everyone for each review. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are looking forward to more! Thanks again and I appreciate all of your kind words.


	17. Learning

She sat above him, her thighs tight against his hips, anchoring his lean body to the bed. He could feel Emma, her fingers guiding his hesitant palm to rest low on her abdomen, her big brown eyes begging him to touch her again. Her lips were on his skin where they had never ventured, her tongue tasting the sweaty arousal on his abdomen as her red hair fanned out across his torso, tickling the hairs on his chest. Her back was bent seductively as she tasted his skin, the small of her back arched as the round curve of her ass greeted the ceiling, pleading for the caress of his hands, his fingers to draw her closer to his warm body.

Will could only lie there as her naked body whimpered and sighed in frustration. Her hips ground into his and her lips fell apart in satisfaction as the pressure between her legs eased. Her eyes bore into his, penetrating and lustful as she bucked her hips again and again, whining in pleasure.

Will sat up, the affects of his sweet nightmare causing a bulge to appear beneath the covers. In eleven years, he had never been so hard and he hated himself for it. Still, it didn't stop him from palming himself to relieving the tension in sweet release, and after, he slept peacefully.

He spent two whole days trying desperately to think of some way to see her again. He wanted nothing more than act surprised to see her, as though he hadn't formulated a plan to run into her on the street, or outside her childhood home. By Monday afternoon he was in a panic, knowing that she wouldn't be staying for long in Lima, and his mind pondered what was best for her.

He had apologised, and she had seemed nonchalant about the whole ordeal, but something wasn't right. If there was one thing that had changed about her dramatically, it was that she was guarded now, her eyes unreadable and distant.

Will was returning thirty volumes of 'Spanish in Focus' to the Allen County library on Monday evening when she met him at the counter. She stood across from Will in the empty 'borrows' line, the large circular desk keeping them from conversation. She smiled a smile that was pleasant, soft and withdrawn. He watched her as the young girl served her, remembering a time when Emma was the one behind the counter, her soft hands brushing those of her customers as she handed them their books to borrow. And now Emma was the writer-a writer who was moving towards Will.

"Wow, Will. That's a lot of reading." She nodded to the stack of volumes balancing on the edge of counter and Will's hands.

"I borrowed them for my Spanish class three months ago and they're late for return. You think I should just leave them and run?"

Emma smirked, her hand reaching between Will's chest and the stack of books, and Will inhaled sharply as his eyes fell down. The end of his tie was caught somewhere between the middle of the pile. Her fingers curled around the material, tugging softly at the gray satin as his heart beat rapidly beneath his rib cage.

If he could still read her eyes, he would have known that her mind was plagued with images of how they used to be, a moment in time when she had touched his body in a rhythm that left him breathless. Did another woman touch him now?

Her tone was low when she advised, "I think that skipping out on late fees is probably your best bet..."

He nodded seriously for a moment, contemplating her suggestion, before allowing his eyes to meet with hers.

"Quick, let's get out of here, then."

And she giggled. Her hair framed her face, the ends blunt and mature, only reaching her shoulders. She wore lipstick now, something she never did as a 17 year old girl, and her lips were perfected by the dark shade of red. There was sense of bohemia caught up in the professionalism of her attitude and dress, but he could sense the passion bubbling at the surface.

They made their way out the door and down the stairs, like they had every Friday for a year more than a decade ago. He couldn't help but to notice her, the way she held herself, her confidence, her tight white shirt beneath her dark red trench coat. He held the door open for her, tailing slightly behind, admiring all of the changes he had missed out on. This woman would have been model-like if she wasn't so petite and possessive of intelligence. He felt like a young boy, fawning over his teacher as she made her way down the path, by his side, her heels tapping the brick path seductively.

"Would you like to go to dinner one night this week?" The words had tumbled out of his mouth nervously, and Emma sensed his desperation immediately.

"I...um...I haven't done that in a while."

"Eaten food?"

She reached up to tuck a loose strand of red hair behind her ear, her gaze finding the brick floor as they walked. "No, eaten out."

"Oh. Do you not like to eat out?"

"I do. I just haven't done so for a while." Her speech was articulate and delicate, radiating confidence as she hitched her handbag higher on her shoulder, her borrowed novels held tight against her ribs.

"We can stay in if you like."

"At your house?" she questioned, her eyebrows rising in apprehension.

"My apartment, yes."

"Okay." She seemed to be reassuring herself. He no longer lived with his parents, something Emma had been afraid of. There was the basic deal breaker, that an unmarried man still lived with his parents, but Emma's fear of Will's childhood home was much more intense.

"We don't have to", he hesitated, offering her an out. "If I'm making you uncomfortable, just say so." He sounded needy, and so in love.

"No, we should have dinner. We should have dinner this week." Her words were certain, just like her tone, something Will found oddly comforting.

"What about tonight?"

"Will, I don't know-"

"Are you hungry?" he asked, ending her refusal.

She smiled sympathetically, "Not really."

"Oh." He ran a hand through his brown curls as she watched his fingers trail a path. She would have caressed him like that every night if they were married with children. There would have been so much love in their lives. "Maybe some other night then-"

It was her turn to cut him off. "Do you have wine?"

He pulled his head back, his eyebrows rising as she watched him bite the inside of his cheek. "Uhh, yeah. I think so."

She grinned, her soft lips pouting in appreciation. "Well then we can do something tonight if you want," she murmured as they reached her fancy car. "At your apartment."

"Great." His description of her response was an understatement, possessing an inadequacy he knew she understood greater than words. Her eyes were boring into his, suffocating him with her sexuality. "I never picked you as the type of girl to drive a Hybrid," Will chuckled as Emma searched for her keys in her bag, her fingers flicking aside her cell phone, her purse, her hairbrush, in the material darkness.

"It isn't mine. It's my partner's."

By the time the doorbell rang at seven, Will had two glasses of wine out and poured. She followed him into the kitchen, dressed in the same clothes she had on earlier, though this time removing her trench coat.

"I don't drink." She smiled and he cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"But you asked me if I had wine..."

"Yeah, to relax you."

He chuckled lowly.

In truth, she looked like the one who was in need of relief. Her body was tense, her clothes tight, hair perfect. In that moment, he said goodbye forever to the girl who once threw herself across grass and swam naked in a lake.

"I brought some food with me." She gestured to the paper bag next to her handbag. "Do you eat Chinese food?"

Their night began awkward and after almost an hour, they had both privately resigned to the fact that it didn't have to be so tense. Will could sense Emma was holding back, but she was as natural as she could be. There were things that needed to be discussed, subjects and desires to be breached, but as Will spent time trying to read Emma, he discovered that she was louder than she used to be, perhaps more outspoken in trivial conversation. At that thought, he couldn't help but wonder what she was like in bed. It was petty and derogatory, but he had waited so long to be in her presence that his juvenile self inhabited his body, making him crave her mature perfection.

After dinner, they had settled in the living room and Will had built a small fireplace. As he bent lowly to position the firewood, he felt her eyes bore through his back, and he was proud to feel the blush warm his cheeks as his shirt tightened around his biceps as he leant forward.

Will, too, had developed, and in more ways than one. The boyish charm that Emma once detested in part had disappeared, exchanged for an intense gaze that made her clear her throat of its tightness. He was tall, well-built, and Emma could only imagine the way he moved above a woman, how he held himself as he made love. He was strong, his body lean, and Emma had so many regrets. Will was lovely- a lovely man who, as an adolescent, had scarred her so deeply.

She turned from adoring him in a spiteful way, her eyes landing on his bookcase. The shelves were covered in novels and non-fiction, the timber naked as it provided a home for Austen and Dickens and 'The Encyclopaedia Britannica'. Emma's perfectly manicured finger tailed along the binders, reading titles, smirking and frowning at what she found.

And then the muscles in her lips twitched.

"You have my books."

He didn't reply as he threw another match at the fire, careless and experienced in lighting flames.

She trailed a single finger slowly between the binders of two of her novels, her two bestsellers.

"Have you read them, Will?"

He nodded to the fire. "Of course."

She drew one out with the tip of her finger, noticing a space next to the other. One was missing. She examined the copy in her hand, returned it, and then examined the other.

"They look tattered."

He turned to face her, his gaze meeting hers.

"I've read them more than once."

He didn't tell her about the magazines and the newspapers and the journals he kept hidden in a box beneath his bed like pornography.

"You liked them?" She looked hopeful, as though his opinion mattered more than the exceptional review she received from the New York Times four years ago.

"They're sad, Em."

He remembered the copy on his bedside table.

"They're sexy, too."

She spun around, her features blank.

"You think my novels are erotica?"

He didn't reply, because the look on her face was slowly transforming into one of hurt and regret. Perhaps one day the right moment would arise for him to bare his soul, to tell her what he admired about her writing and what he didn't.

"So when are you heading back to New York?" He knew she had a boyfriend waiting for her, a lover who was allowed to satisfy her in ways that he couldn't.

"I don't live in New York," as she started, Will began to learn. "I haven't lived there for two and a half years."

Will didn't know what to think, so he nodded in interest and sat down on the couch. "I didn't know that."

"Why would you?" Her question didn't have the intent to be offensive, but he couldn't help but to falter in reaching for his glass of wine and then her glass of water.

"Why did you move?" he asked casually, keeping it safe, offering her the glass as she stood across the room at the bookcase.

"I...It was easier, to move away." She hesitated. "I was in a relationship and my partner was having some trouble coping with living in the city because he...he wasn't well."

"Is that why you stopped writing?"

"No. I wrote when he was sick." Her statement was slow as she moved to sit on the opposite end of the beige couch. Her features looked older, drained, and Will wanted to reach out and hold her sweet fingers in comfort. Would they still feel soft against his skin?

"Perhaps one of my greatest regrets," Emma snapped him out of his lust, her knees shifting as she crossed her legs, resting back against the couch tiredly as she reached her hand out for her beverage. The water in her wine glass splashed slowly against the curve of the glass, but Emma was oblivious, even as her black skirt rode higher up her creamy thighs. "I'm glad I didn't publish anything that I wrote when he was ill. My writing was terrible."

"You've separated?" Hope was ignited in his veins.

"No." Emma peered down into her wine glass, her cheeks blushing in pain. "He passed away recently."

Will's eyes widened as he gulped. She was a broken woman sitting on his couch mourning a dead man and less than thirty seconds ago he had been admiring the plane of her naked thigh.

"I'm so sorry." She didn't appear to be remotely close to tears. "What was his name?"

"Tim." Her eyes looked lonely and hopeful, as though she had no friends to talk about this with. She swallowed, her attention begging for his questions about the man she had loved, another man she had lost.

"I'm sure he was a wonderful man." It hurt him to see her so detached, so effortlessly undetermined.

She tried to speak and then faltered, waiting for a moment to pass. "He was. Especially when he was well." She gazed toward the ceiling, and she could feel Will's eyes on her, attempting to feel her pain for her as he did when they were best friends. "Tim was so loving."

And Will was jealous of a dead man.

"I'm really sorry that you had to go through that, Emma. It must have been terrible...It must still be."

She didn't cry, didn't even flinch. Again, Will had so many questions, but he barely knew this woman. She reached forward to place her wine glass of water on the table and as she fell back to the couch, Will's fingers trapped hers, holding a part of her to him, touching her for the first time in eleven long, slow, empty years. He felt a shudder run though her and his heartbeat hammered in shame and need. He wanted to comfort her for all she had lost, a decade ago and recently.

"Did you ever think about me, Will?"

He swallowed harshly. He couldn't have pre-empted that.

He watched her features relax as her fingers moved in his, finding a more comfortable hold. There. She had found it. After eleven years, her hand still fit perfectly in his. His skin wasn't soft as it used to be, his fingertips more calloused and his palm much larger.

Did he ever think of her?

"Yes, of course."

She closed her eyes and rested her head back against the couch, her pink tongue sweeping out between perfect lips that Will hadn't kissed for an incredibly long time.

"I think it was good that I ran into you the other day," Emma started, finding confidence in her relaxed and darkened state. "Sometimes I had issues with Tim... with being intimate... and I can't help but feel that if I had seen you sooner, it would have been easier for me."

There was a long pause, a moment of consideration were the only sounds were of the howling Lima wind outside his living room window and the crackling of fire.

"I wish you hated me, Emma."

She grasped his palm tighter as her eyes opened slowly, finding his tearful ones in passion. "I wish I did, too."

Their eyes locked, pained and wild, and he wanted her more than his childhood self ever did. Her legs were strong, seeking his attention in his peripheral vision as her eyes distracted him, reeling him in further than his fantasies of her ever had. He had once ruined her, and he wanted to make it better. He needed to pick her up, carry her into his bedroom and make love to her the way he should had when he was a boy and she was a girl.

"You've changed so much." He spoke quietly, deadening the silence, romancing her sadness.

Her fingers moved slightly in his warm hold, tickling the soft skin of his inner wrist seductively, making Will shift minutely in desire.

"You still look like that boy who loved me."

He still did.

There was a knock at the door, annoying rapping that snapped them out of their daze. Emma snatched her hand from Will's sitting upright once again as she regained her composure.

Will moved to answer the door with a soft sigh, cursing whoever it was.

Emma heard a woman's melodious tone, mumbled voices that conversed beyond walls. She was loud, the woman in the hall; loud and demanding. For many years later, Emma would often wonder whether or not she heard the statement 'Last night you made me wet when you read that line from that book you're so obsessed with' escape Jenny Barney's lips through the thin walls of Will's apartment. The voice became louder as the body it belonged to made its way down the hall and closer to where Emma sat primly on the couch.

And what a body it was.

A woman stood there, her dark hair curly and untamed, her body curvaceous and sensual.

"Jen, this is Emma."

The brunette licked her dry lips as she threw her handbag over the single couch opposite Emma, offering a smile that didn't quite reach sincerity.

AN: Thank you so much for your reviews, everyone. They mean the world to me. Thoughts today?


	18. Deliverance

It was in keeping with the nature of the shock they experienced in meeting one another for the first time in eleven years, that Will and Emma were astonished to learn that in fact, their lives had altered dramatically.

Emma had excused herself soon after Jenny had entered on Monday evening, not because she didn't like the woman, but because she simply couldn't stand to be around her. Jenny had grasped Will's hand, the same warm fingers that had danced harmoniously in Emma's only minutes before, while she asked Emma trivial questions about her life. How did Emma know Will? Did they used to date? How long would Emma be staying in Lima for? And all the while, as the brunette's lips twitched in the effort to draw a somewhat pleasant smile on her features to share with Emma, her body radiated a certain attractiveness that Emma would never have.

Will was fucking her, and Emma knew it.

Emma sat in bed that night, the single bed in her parent's house where she had read as much as she possible could in her younger years. The purple lace lampshade on her bedside table cast a sweet light around Emma as she sat with her laptop between her legs, her back pressed against her pillow. It was cold outside, almost freezing in fact, though not snowing. The wind had picked up over the course of three days, just as the relationship between Emma and Will had. Granted she had only seen him once since she had hurriedly left his house on Monday night, their encounter in the parking lot of the local supermarket had been promising, an agreement Emma found herself secretly enthralled by.

He had been wandering towards the store when she was packing groceries into her car, and he had picked up three bags at once from the trolley and deposited them next to hers in the boot. She had blushed and tightened her scarf around her neck and he had stood back with his hands in his pockets, his biceps practically ripping the leather of his jacket due to so many layers of clothing for warmth, and his undeniable strength. Will had casually invited her to dinner at his place on Friday night, and she had surprised him by suggesting that they go out because after all, it was his birthday on Friday. His face had practically glowed at the realisation that she had remembered, and she offered to pick him up at eight pm, unsure in her heart of hearts if she was doing the right thing for herself.

Memory was the key to her happiness and her sorrow. Emma had learnt, though literature, the power of memory, and there she was in her childhood bedroom, her legs crossed and herself so much older. She rested her neck against the head board, fingering the ends of her red hair, which only reached the top of her breasts when pulled. She smoothed the ends out, her palm tracing the curve of her breast over her large sweatshirt, her body completely developed and stunning.

As Emma stilled her hands at her waist, wondering what Will would think of her now. Would he compare her body to her younger self? What did he admire most about her? Would he still worship her the way he used to?

Emma was the epitome of divinity when she arrived on his doorstep minutes before eight pm on Friday evening. Dressed in a chocolate satin button down shirt that closed between her breasts and a black pencil skirt, she was greeted at the door by a man who was not Will. She was ready to leave, to go to the restaurant with Will, keys in hand and all, and then Jarrod introduced himself and invited her into Will's home. He asked her questions about herself and laughed about how he and his friends had surprised Will fifteen minutes ago with dinner on the evening of his birthday, all the while Emma wondered what the hell was going on as she followed Jarrod into the dining room.

Will stood at the end of the table, an apologetic look flashing across his features as he caught sight of her. She smiled at him and wished him a Happy Birthday, and he crossed the room to offer an explanation, detailing how Jarrod, Darren, Keith and Jenny, had surprised him not long ago with dinner. Emma shook her head rapidly, smiling widely and stating how lovely it was that Will had such sweet friends. Will agreed for the sake of his company, but he looked disappointed when he caught her gaze, frustrated that their night was ruined.

As the night wore on, Emma learnt that Will had in fact picked himself a nice bunch of friends in college, and Emma couldn't help but wonder if Will ever told them about her, about all the pain that she had caused him. Dinner wasn't a quiet affair, as Jenny didn't stop talking for longer than ten seconds, barely allowing anyone else to get a word in.

A litany of questions escaped the brunette's mouth, her disinterest evident behind her facade of friendly inquiry.

"So where are you from, Emma?"

"I'm from Pennsylvania."

"Which city?"

"Lancaster."

"Do you cook, Emma?"

"Umm, no. I don't."

"How do you keep so skinny?"

"I don't drink."

Will's gaze caught Emma's as Jenny spoke, her tone childlike and needy, Jenny's giggle almost devilish as she poured herself another glass of wine. Emma watched Will, the depth of his eyes holding something she had never seen before, a need she wasn't certain she could possibly fulfil.

For Will's girlfriend, Jenny sure did seem to enjoy the company of all the men at dinner. She placed herself between Will and Darren at dinner, and at one point, Emma sensed that Jenny's foot had ventured higher than Will was comfortable with, because his eyes shot down to his lap and he just looked uncomfortable, shooting a warning look at his brunette lover. Jenny's obliviousness was probably the reason why she didn't seem to notice when Will followed Emma into his kitchen after dinner, after Emma excused herself politely to get another glass of water.

Emma could hear footsteps before she even had the glass under the tap, Will's body moving closer to her, and she could just feel his eyes boring into her back, though her body and into her mind.

"Sorry, I just need to grab some more napkins."

He stood behind her, his arms reaching up past her neck to grasp the knobs of the cupboard doors. He moved closer, his chest moulding against her slightly protruding shoulder blades as she pressed her chest forward to lose contact with him.

Will sensed her movement, the way she retreated from the warmth of his body, and it hurt him deeply. He had spent his whole mature life conjuring images of how time could have been spent differently had he not taken her virginity the way he did.

He hung his head in shame, and his forehead touched her naked shoulder. Will swallowed, the boniness of Emma's body a reminder of her fragility. They were so close and he loved her so much.

He lifted his forehead slightly, his eyes meeting the golden freckles of her skin that he adored so muchit made him sick to think of another man touching them, kissing them, licking them. Emma smelt mature, her sweet perfume smelling of daisies while her hair smelled of something entirely different. He breathed her in, his nose resting against the nape of her neck. She aroused him just be being there, her presence seducing him without intent. But Will didn't need to be seduced. He had been his entire life.

His fingers that didn't fall down against the counter and to curl around her waist trailed along her neck, an action which caused Emma's eyes to widen and flicker. It had been so long since she had made love, so long since she'd been touched. His fingertips pushed aside the satin collar of her shirt, revealing more skin, more freckles, more softness to lose himself in.

The ends of her red hair tickled his chin, a sensation he couldn't recall from adolescence. His heart hammered beneath his chest and he felt drowsy, drowsy and weak. He licked his lips, all attention trained on her pale skin that was a canvas for the sun's art.

Her eyelids fluttered closed, his breath warm against the skin of her neck. In her entire life she had never felt so hot, so completely warm. She was as still as a stone monument, a historic statue to be honoured and worshipped, and that was all Will wanted.

He couldn't help himself as his lips pressed softly against her bare skin, warm against the curve where shoulder met neck.

She sighed.

More kisses. Sweet little pecks that were placed lovingly as his lips parted slowly, opening wider until her body shuddered softly. As Emma pushed back against Will's chest, his lips opened, curving completely over her bare shoulder; it felt like he was devouring her.

As his hand rested still on her waist, his kisses became hungry; hungry and real. She could feel his tongue tasting her slowly, dragging across her skin, the wet softness against her shoulder blade. He was so passionate.

In her fragile position, her petite body caught between Will's chest and the kitchen counter, it took Emma close to a minute to realize what he was doing, but when she finally did, her relaxed features clouded over in seriousness and hurt. "What are you doing, Will?"

"I don't know." He kept her still, his hands on her waist not allowing her to turn around.

"Don't, Will," she whispered, almost remorsefully. His grip loosened immediately.

"I can't stop thinking about you."

"You have a girlfriend who adores you," she gasped as his lips closed around her pulse point, his hands falling to his sides, not holding her, no longer touching her as Emma continued, "And she's in the next room."

It had felt so wonderful to be in Will's arms again, to feel the warm wetness of his soft lips on her skin. She was caught up in love, depression and relief that she needed to summon every ounce of willpower that she had to turn, place her tiny hand on his chest and push him away.

Shame clouded Will's features, the hazel depths Emma gazed into pained and confused.

"Do you still have feelings for me, Emma?"

The question caused Emma to reflex, to look down to her polished heels and clear her throat. When she finally glanced up at him, slowly catching his gaze, the sheer intensity found in his pools almost knocked her over.

"I think I should leave, Will."

She pushed past him, and he doubted that the red blush that painted her cheeks was because of the cold wind seeping through the sliver of the opening in the kitchen window.

"Come back to me tonight, when they leave."

Her eyes were wide when she turned around, her entire body flustered as her heels pressed into the floorboards of his kitchen.

"If you don't come back here, I'll go to you." His desperation was laced with intent, but he needed her to know that his advances weren't sexual; he just wanted to hold her, to feel her heartbeat. "I'll go to you and I'll make you listen to me, Emma."

Emma could hear laughter from the next room, from the dining table which Will's closest friends were all seated around.

She began to speak, and then she closed her mouth, reforming her words.

"Don't ruin what you have here, Will." He swallowed at the intensity of her gaze. "Don't compromise the life you've built for yourself, because I'll be gone in a few weeks."

"To Pennsylvania?"

"I'm going back to New York."

Heartbreak was Will's.

"I want to be alone with you tonight, Emma." His husky tone conveyed his emotion, his raw need to just be in her presence.

She ran her fingers through her hair, as Will often did in frustration, "I'm a mess."

"Let me help you." He moved to corner her against the wall, startling her out of her hypnosis.

She stepped back at his sincere and sweetly pained tone. "You broke me," she whispered deeply. "You don't get to help me."

And then she left, without a coat, just as she arrived.

At two am the morning after Will's 29th Birthday, without warning, Emma was on his doorstep in a thick black coat that was removed in haste once she was through the door.

"I forgot to give you your present."

His house was silent and his eyes were wide as she stood naked before him, her slender shadow cast by the hall light.

"Happy Birthday, Will."

AN: Thank you to the special group of readers and writers that always review, and to those who reviewed for the last chapter, I am glad you like the story so far. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Let me know, because every review has an impact on the story!


	19. Relief

When she stepped into the room, his eyes were locked on hers. When she disrobed before him, his eyes were transfixed on hers. And when she closed her eyelids in humiliation, denying him the opportunity to peer deep into her soul, his eyes were trained on her features.

When he believed that she refused to open her eyes, he saw that the black coat was on his floorboards, pooled around her stiletto-clad ankles. Pale, thin calves led to bony knees. It was dark, he couldn't make out much more than the outline of her body, but his eyes pooled with tears anyway. She was incredibly frail. His gaze rested low on her thighs, his hands itching to caress the curves that he once had permission to touch. His peripheral vision granted him the ability to feel the most emotion, as it spoiled what awaited his gaze. And finally, as her eyelids fluttered open, as she breathed a sigh of relief, his mind caught up.

He was breathless, staring at her lower body, his gaze refusing to budge from the tops of her legs, because he knew that once he continued to look, to gawk, he would die a little bit more.

It was raw, it was needy, and it was so beautiful. Her body was the most beautiful of the three others he had seen in his entire life, and he had only reached the tops of her legs, legs that went on forever.

She was staring. He had to continue.

The corner of his gaze had hinted at slender hips, but when his stare rested upon her most intimate place, for the first time in his life, he was really seeing her. Red curls, soft wetness.

His heart clenched and he swallowed deeply.

A small waistline. Freckled skin. Round, perky breasts. Pale pink nipples.

"You're so beautiful, Emma."

Her eyes were dark, wide and confused, and she was the saddest woman he had ever seen.

It was smooth, the way his hand reached out and cupped the side of her neck, his fingertips skimming the soft hairs at the base of her neck, almost a gesture straight from one of her novels. She licked her lips, anticipating his kiss, but it never came.

Instead, his hand reached down to find hers, their fingers twisting together in a gesture of understanding and familiarity. He guided her down the hall of his apartment, his arm twisting around his back as his hand lead her to his bedroom.

It was dark but for the light streaming from the kitchen window, and her body was cold. She had anticipated that, at the second the wool of her coat caressed the wood of his floor, the tiny goosebumps on her arms would be warmed by Will's touch. Instead, his hand dropped hers as they crossed the doorway to his bedroom, the loss of contact making her heart hammer beneath her chest, a blush covering her sternum as she stood there, her back to Will, in all her naked glory.

The creaking of his bedroom door. The squeak of the door handle in dire need of oiling. Complete darkness.

Her eyes fluttered closed, her breathing quickening as she lost the nerve she had entered with.

Touch was her only suspicion.

When his palm found the soft skin of her hip, her body twisted almost maniacally, her hair whipping the stumble on his chin as her small breasts bounced in the darkness. At the way she was looking at him, he just wanted to lick her, everywhere. The pressure on her hip increased, and he walked her back slowly, her naked skin colliding with the wall of his bedroom. Heat radiated from her body, making his fingers shake against her hip bone, almost numbing them.

It was an emotion he had never felt with her before, an attitude she radiated in her utmost state of vulnerability. She was small and delicate, and regardless of how incredibly insecure she appeared, Emma was condescending, simply because she was so special.

Her eyelids fluttered closed as the denim of his jeans rubbed against her smooth skin and she gasped. It had been so long since she had made love. And it was so wrong because it was so right.

He rocked into her slowly, his clothed hip bones rubbing against her bare ones deliciously. He revelled in the sounds of her pleasure, the little gasps and whimpers that drew from her lips like melodies he used to know, but never met. His hands travelled over her waist, feeling the soft warmth that he had dreamed of for years. His fingers brushed the undersides of her breasts, but something in his heart told him not to touch them. As a girl, she had been self-conscious about her chest, and he didn't want to frighten her. Somehow, he didn't think he could if he tried, yet the risk wasn't worth it.

She had arrived at his home with a singular purpose and a focused need. She needed release and Will promised to provide her with it. He owed it to her, and they owed it to each other.

Except, Will couldn't fulfil his promise.

The pressure between her legs was strong and wild and she needed relief in the form of the man before her, but as much as he tried, as focused as he was, he couldn't bring himself to the state of arousal Emma lusted after.

She pressed her lower body into him, swivelling her hips and bringing her fingers to his zipper. He breathed deeply, his eyes watching hers, which were fixed on her fingers.

The scratch of metal as his belt became loose. Her hand in his pants, her fingers dancing around his length.

He pulled back, and then gasped her fingers in his. He swallowed an awkward cough, her eyes rising to meet his seductively as she straightened her body, her shoulder blades pressing against the painted wood of his door. "I'm sorry. I...umm...just give me a minute."

Her eyes studied his, understanding what was inevitable, "Sure."

A puff of air escaped between his lips, and his eyes left hers to stare at the ceiling, asking the heavens for mercy. He had waited so long, and when the time came, he simply couldn't.

"This has never happened before," he explained, watching her bite her lip as she removed her hand slowly from his denim confines, her smooth skin scratching against his open zipper.

"It's okay," she breathed, summoning a smile as the vice grip her thighs had on his knee loosened.

The room is completely silent except for the screaming of a baby a floor below Will. A hindrance for the new mother below them would have been a dream, in comparison to the nightmare they were living in the present. It was all they could of had.

"I shouldn't have done this." His hand came to palm against the door, flattening the wood above her shoulder.

She moved past him, before he could trap her with another palm. Her stiletto's dug whorishly into his carpet as she made her way to sit on his bed, her nakedness causing regret to cloud in his eyes.

When he turned, his sweet gaze agreed with her, regardless of how much he wanted her.

"We're repeating the same patterns." It was almost a choke from her lips, her voice hoarse and exhausted. "But this time, I think there's more involved."

"Like what?" The solemnity of his gaze taunted her, asking for more than she was willing to give.

"I don't know," she shook her head, her eyes focusing in the darkness. "I haven't figured it out, yet."

She could make out his head board, his lamp, a glass of water on his side table.

"Why is my novel on your side table?" she sounded accusing, like he didn't deserve the right to read her work.

"I was reading it."

He wanted to tell her that he didn't have to answer to her, when she was the one who had dissected their adolescence so freely in her writing, that she had bared both of their souls to the world when she published it, something that he was certain he would never have done if he stood in her shoes. Nobody knew, nor did they understand, but it mattered to Will. He would have told her this, perhaps even with a tone of disappointment and disgust, if she hadn't seemed so destroyed, her bare behind pressed into his duvet.

She appeared to be taking in her surroundings, possibly gathering research for her next novel.

She was focusing on something, squinting, her eyesight conceivably worse than it was when she was a young girl.

There was a picture framed of Jenny and Will, next to her book, close to his pillow.

"I don't think we should see each other again, Will."

To sigh would have been rude, so he waited for her to take back her words, to forgive him and love him, but they never came, so he spoke quietly to silence.

"I think you're right."

Her lonely coat was retrieved by Will as he led the way out, his fingertips remorseful that they hadn't been the ones to undress her. He dressed her in the darkness, the skin of his fingertips not once touching her freckled skin as she slipped her arms into the sleeves and he buttoned her coat. She appeared as she arrived; only her hair looked like she had been fucked.

"I just want you to know that it wasn't you tonight...why I couldn't...perform." He hesitated at the open front door, not wanting to see her leave.

"You're the most intelligent woman I've ever met and it makes me afraid," he spoke earnestly, as his voice deepened, taking on a husky tone. "I don't want you to leave thinking that I'm not attracted to you, Emma."

The look in his eyes made her insides clench.

"I just feel so guilty."

There was a time, when Emma was a young girl, when she had eavesdropped on her mother and the elder redhead's sister. She had heard Aunt Candice's words from the banister, after the younger sister requested a pity party in the kitchen. Little Emma had pressed her ear hungrily between two wooden bars of the staircase, listening to the sounds of remorse and hatred leave Aunt Candice's plump, coral painted lips in a sound which could only be described as a dramatic howl. Tears were shed by the beauty therapist, as she cried to her sister, the married Pillsbury, about another ruined relationship. As the production continued in the kitchen, Aunt Candice noted how a man who never sheltered his guilt, who rarely guarded his vulnerability, was the man who would live inside your bones until the moment he no longer could.

Emma's lips met Will's, flesh gliding over flesh, her tears beginning to seep from between her lids as his arm curled around her waist and the kiss drew on and on. She breathed into him, their tongues colliding and tangling for the first time in eleven years. She tasted her own tears and felt another on her forehead, one which hadn't escaped from her brown pools.

He pulled back, resting tiredly against the frame of his door as she stepped around him, into the well lit hall of the apartment block. He sighed before he stuttered, the words falling from his lips as she watched him closely. "I'm so sorry about what happened...about what I did to you."

Her face was blank, a miserable canvas begging to be painted with brighter colours. He looked so pained, licking his lips as he whispered, "I used you."

She nodded, remembering how he looked as a young boy, when her love for him was so different. "I used you, too."

If her eye sight was better, she would have seen the single tear slip down his cheek. She didn't.

"I think I used you more than I loved you." Emma confessed, tightening the material belt around her waist.

He shook his head slowly, glaring at the floor. "Not the way I did."

Emma swallowed, ashamed for going through with what she did that night as she felt the lining of her coat tease her nipples. Will hadn't even wanted her.

"I remember when we were young and you asked me if it I thought it was sacred when we touched each other," she interrupted the silence as the hall light lit her fiery hair.

His gaze left the floor, locking with her relaxed one. "The way you touched me tonight was sacred." His throat was tight as she spoke the words, and he couldn't breathe. Could he ever be intimate with someone else again?

"I'm going now," she whispered, and Will was determined to stay.

His birthday weekend came and went, and he saw Jenny on Saturday night, and she shared his bed, but nothing more. He returned her novel to the bookcase, sliding it between the other two and returning to his bedroom to slide the box with her journal entries further beneath, next to the box with his thunderclaps and best high school projects, including the one that Emma had made for him, for which he received an A.

He saw her on Sunday morning when he drove past her mother's home. She was on the porch, wrapped in the same black coat she had unveiled herself from in the early hours of Saturday morning. She was standing on a stool, fixing the porch light that Will had fixed himself no more than six months ago. He often visited her mother after Mr Pillsbury died, but if Emma knew about his visits with her mother, she hadn't let on.

As he watched her, the stool covered by the bushes before the porch, it appeared she was balancing in mid air. Her pyjama pants were inflated by the cool Lima wind, adding to the magical effect, and he thought that would have been the last time he saw her in his whole life.

He had caused her too much pain. He lost the right to fight for her the day he violated her so innocently.

His heart was wrecked by such intense guilt he didn't want to keep her around. As miserable as it sounded, he wanted her gone, out of his life so that he could one day retrieve the small ring box from his side table and ask the naked brunette in his bed to marry him in the fall.

That was what happiness was, where he would finally find it.

He found Emma again, waiting for her order in the Italian restaurant in Greater Lima, two doors down from the cafe he had found her only two weeks ago. He had told Jenny that he was picking up Italian for dinner, a treat because she had been so wonderful to him on his birthday, organising a dinner and later dropping his friends home.

Emma's eyes locked with Will's the moment he stepped into the restaurant, her posture straightening and her eyes widening. Regret was painted across her features, deep disappointment for what they had decided, and a longing that was sincerely familiar.

They left the establishment without Will ordering and Emma's pasta still boiling in the restaurant kitchen, her hand reaching for his as they walked swiftly out the door and toward his parked car.

Not a word was said as Will drove faster than he should have for fifteen minutes, before they reached the car park of the lake, his hand grasping hers again as they walked towards the place that they had discovered their sexuality together.

AN: I was overwhelmed by the amount of reviews for the last chapter, so a big thank you goes out to all who take the time to review. The next chapter is almost completed, and it should be up within the next few days. Thoughts?


	20. Promises

It was over almost as soon as it began.

Before they had even reached the place that had become so familiar to them, her navy cardigan beneath her thick black coat was unbuttoned by his fingertips, her cream lacy bra bared to the moonlight. His sweater was discarded of, the body of it lying on the grass, a maroon sleeve trapped by a hanging branch, the lifeless material pointing toward the sky.

His tongue found hers perhaps before his lips, and the warmth her body promised was the sweetest invitation he had ever been presented with.

Pants and moans replaced words as her fingers discovered his belt buckle again, her fingers curling around the metal that held his jeans together and pulling the zip down so roughly his hips retaliated from her hand.

Knees stabbed grass as hands flew to caress torsos, Emma's legs collapsing beneath her as Will pulled her down to the ground. Their bodies fell like moralistic soldiers; generals who had lost battle though had never surrendered. Grass stains marked his jeans, and somewhere in his mind he remembered his promise to Jenny, that he would be home with a delicious meal of gratitude in a short time. There he was, his form hovering over Emma's, his body ready for his own meal of gratitude.

His body pressed into hers, her hips bucking into his, her lips pressing against his pulse point, and then sucking, and then kissing.

"I just want to fuck you," she breathed, her fingernails digging into the skin on his shoulder blades.

She was the one to lift her hips and curl her long fingers around the edges of her panties, almost whipping them off her ankles, the material catching around her heels where she intended to leave them. But Will was quick to notice and fling them aside. He swallowed as she dragged her skirt up her thighs, resting the hemline at her waist and pulling him closer by the hips. Her bent knees anchored his hips to hers without force, feeling his desire for her against her bare core.

Her calves wrapped around his legs as his hand fumbled to push the barriers of material down to his knees. Desperation clouded reality, and the act that ruined them as children was desired so recklessly as Will searched for protection in his wallet. Her legs tightened around his as he slid the rubber onto himself, and the heels of Emma's shoes dug into the backs of his knees, causing Will to flinch and press himself into her naked stomach.

Emma's head rolled back, her sweet neck bared to the darkness as Will sat up, his hands grasping her ankles and removing each heel with care. The buckles were tiny, too small for his fingers, and he faltered on the second shoe, causing Emma's body to writhe impatiently on the grass, her red hair fanned out around her face. When he finally placed the heels down, his fingers curling around the straps as he dropped them, her body shot up in annoyance, her chest aching for his hands as she panted. Her bare toes touched the damp grass as she slid her body below Will's, his knees coming to rest on either side of her hips.

Will's lips found hers, their tongues duelling as she moaned into his mouth, her hands wild as they worked feverishly to push his undershirt further up his torso.

As soon as it was off, her eyes seemed to bulge, her fingers digging into the contours of his chest as his kisses rained over her sternum and then lower, lower, lower.

He hovered above her, his hands sliding down over her chest to rest at her hips, stilling their wild bucking toward his length.

He pulled her hips toward his, and as he lowered himself, he finally sunk into her. It was slow, languid, and the way her eyes locked on his made him want to love her.

She was the most perfect thing he had ever seen or felt.

Her body was tighter than he remembered it being the first time he was with her, a sensation that haunted his fantasies and sexual encounters with other women.

His thrusts weren't thrusts; rather they were shifts to remind him where he was and how perfect she felt. She groaned, long lust-filled whimpers which made him shudder in the cold night air. Her fingernails dug into the soft skin of his behind, drawing him further into her as her chest heaved in satisfaction.

"God." His forearm almost collapsed at her curse as he held himself above and inside of her.

"Move." She was louder than he would have expected her to be, her body more forceful than romantic.

His lips pressed against the curve of her collarbone as the fire in her lower half ignited, his hot, wet breath warming her freckled skin.

His hand that wasn't supporting himself travelled to the back of her neck, pillowing her head from the ground as her body insisted that he thrust into her, satisfy her. She could feel his fingers in her hair, and it saddened her that she had never felt safer in her life than half naked by a lake with the great love of her life.

Regardless of her whimpers and requests and groans, the last thing he expected was for her to take action. So when her hips bucked from the grass, her insides caressing him violently, all he could do was comply.

As his large form hovered above her tiny one, she held control, her body possessing his as he met her thrust for thrust, her thighs tight and sweaty around his.

It was the fastest sex he had ever had, and he had done it with dainty Emma Pillsbury.

When it was over for her, after she had whimpered her release and shuddered in his arms, he let go. He had never experienced such a release. It wasn't the most satisfying, but the way her eyes clouded over as he moved within her certainly made it the most powerful.

His lips rested on her forehead, the red strands damp and curling slightly on her hairline. Her body was numb in his arms, lethargic. Her palms rested at either side of their bodies, almost as though she was crucified to the ground her naked skin rested upon.

He couldn't stop himself. Kisses. More kisses. She was in his arms and panting like she had just had the most rewarding sex of her life.

She felt his tongue on her neck, his warm lips mumbling sweet adoration as he whispered of her greatest traits.

"Don't, Will."

His worship didn't stop at her request, rather, his kisses became sweeter and slower and lovelier. The genuine respect he had never shown her.

"Stop."

Though her words were painted with intent, her body betrayed her. His kisses trailed over her lace covered-chest slowly, making up for the foreplay that never occurred, that was never needed.

The sounds of her pleasure rang in his ears. Tiny gasps that made his heart beat faster and forget about his responsibilities, because as selfish as it was, the only thing that mattered was Emma and how good she felt in his arms.

His lips were warm, his tongue soaking the patch of lace which covered her nipple. She sighed, her fingers trailing over his biceps as her eyelids slipped closed.

"I hadn't had an orgasm in two years."

Her words were unexpected, the back of her hand resting across her forehead as she swallowed.

Will pulled back, his eyes waiting for hers to meet his, but they remained closed. He had waited his whole life to feel a part of something special again, and he still didn't feel it. He felt warmth and promise and regret, but she was fragile in his arms.

He dressed her slowly, his fingers trembling as he buttoned her cardigan. Her chest was still heaving as he located her panties and drew them up to her hips. One thing that he realised, that he hadn't noticed when she stood before him naked on her birthday, was that her body was so obviously frail. She had always been petite, but her body looked exhausted and thin. She barely moved to help him dress her, but when he moved to slip a red shoe on, her foot arched, sliding into her strappy Mary Jane in an extremely sophisticated manner. It didn't take him as long to buckle the shoe up as it had to take it off, and he regretted that.

Her eye lids fluttered as he dressed himself, and she watched him through her eyelashes. He wasn't what she expected; she didn't think he would be so strong, so indecisive.

"I can't not see you again." His words were soft and if she hand' been so close to him, if he hadn't been dressing before her, she wouldn't have known of his subtle desperation.

Emma sat up slowly, dusting the grass and non-existent dirt from her hands. "Like this?" She raised an eyebrow.

He sat down next to her slowly, bringing his knees up to his chest like he used to as a boy. "Is that what you want?"

"Is that what you want?" she turned her head slowly, her eyes focusing on the shoulder of his sweater.

"I just...we can't say goodbye like this." He was distant as he spoke, his gaze cast over the body of water before them. "I don't want to remember us like this."

"You regret what we did tonight?" she enquired.

"No."

While he blushed, she considered herself. "I'm still grieving, Will."A moment passed and her hand found his, their fingers mingling, hers colder than they should have been. "That's why I'm back here. That's why I can't go back to Lancaster." She drew a deep breath. "And I'm not ready for New York, yet."

"Of course." His whisper was soft and she loved him for understanding her. Her head rested on his shoulder, the weight consoling Will.

"I can help you, Em." His fingers grasped hers tightly for a moment, like a pulse, reminding her to live.

"Help me what?"

She sounded tired, like a child.

"Help you grieve."

Her soft hair tickled his neck.

"How?"

He wasn't even thinking, not considering his responsibilities and promises.

"I know you need someone...to be close to. You always have. I just want you to know that you can call on me whenever you want, whenever you need me."

"As a friend?" her head shot up off his shoulder, her eyes locking with his as he answered her.

His eyes were dark, not with lust, but honesty and care. "As whatever you need."

"You have a girlfriend, Will." There it was again- her condescending manner. Will wondered briefly if he would ever see the girl he used to know.

His features tensed in pity and sympathy. "And you don't have anybody."

Her eyes widened briefly before her head shot down to his shoulder again.

Will used to dream about the perfect life they would have had, he as a teacher and she as a writer. Together. Apart. It didn't matter as long as there was still a desired connection.

And he had just found it again.

"Every Tuesday afternoon I coach Glee club at McKinley. I want you to come by and meet them."

He had waited so long to offer such a gift to somebody worth of experiencing such talent.

"I don't know, Will." Her fingers loosened in his, but he only grasped them tighter.

"They're great kids." She was silent and he was hopeful. "It would really make me happy, Em."

She turned her head, her lips finding the cotton of his sweater and pressing against his shoulder ever so softly. She could feel the warmth upon her flesh and a sweet promise escaped her lips. "I'd love to."

AN: I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter and didn't think the smut wasn't too much. Though, I doubt anyone really has an issue with it. This hiatus is really setting in and so I hope to be writing a lot more in the next few weeks. Until then!


	21. Discussion

Emma was nervous, waiting patiently by her dead boyfriend's car in the McKinley High parking lot. She wanted to go in, she knew the way to the choir room, but the school was empty but for the Glee Club and she felt like a trespasser.

So she waited. The car door was cool against her back as she rested against it, wishing for warmth that she had craved ever since Will had touched her just days ago. Her hands were cold, her bare neck a victim of the wind as the icy breeze whipped her skin and made her regret the decision to not bring a scarf.

When a tall figure turned into the only visible corridor, Emma squinted, desperate in her exterior of indifference to get Will's attention with the simple craning of her neck, a fair distance from the shadow-maker walking towards her. When the male reached the main archway of the school, Emma realised it wasn't Will. He was taller than Will, but he was focused on Emma, that she could make out.

He was polite and young as he neared- instead of calling to her from across the car park, he waited until Emma was closer, her steps tinier than his because, without shoes, she was easily half his size. His smile was warm, sweeter than Emma's nervous one, and his eyes twinkled with the same brightness Will's did when he was the boy's age.

"Are you Miss Pillsbury?" he squinted with one eye, mockingly suspicious and curious.

"Yes, I am." He nodded and rocked back on his heels against the gravel, his hands stashed in his pockets and his arms tight against his sides to ward off the cold.

"I'm Finn Hudson. I'm in Glee Club with Mr Schue. He told me to come and see if you were out here." Her palm brushed the smooth lining of her red coat as she pulled her fingers from the warmth, reaching out to shake the boy's hand.

He motioned toward the entrance with the tilt of his head and a lopsided grin, and she was flooded with memories of her adolescence.

"Have you started class yet, Finn?" she asked as they made their way up the steps. It was a task, making idle chit-chat when the walls were caving in on her, when she could hear only the silence and her ears were pounding with the impact of each step she took.

"Mr Schue is just setting up. He likes to give us assignments each week to come up with some songs for competition." Finn's tone was kind and informative, and Emma was pleased to see that he seemed to appreciate Glee. Will deserved to be appreciated, and she wanted that for him.

"I remember." Emma's whisper was soft and almost inaudible in her distraction. She hadn't thought she could feel like this, passing her English classroom, the door to the auditorium, the history wing. Did Will live like this every day? Caught up in the past? In memories of them?

Finn was oblivious to the throb of Emma's heart beneath her rib cage, to the sweat residing uncharacteristically on her palms and the tightening of her stomach muscles in anxiety."He told you?"

"No, no. I went to school with Will...Mr Schuester. He used to receive Glee assignments from his own teacher."

She passed another opening to the school, a wing that led to outside, to the bench she waited on for Will a number of times. On the corner of the wing was a small office, walled with glass and a name plate which read 'Guidance.' That was new, and Emma only wished it had been there when she attended McKinley. She would have shown such appreciation for the tiny room off the main corridor.

"Yeah, he's always going on about what the Glee Club used to be like, you know, when he was in high school."

Emma nodded, wondering what the boy would think if he knew just how confused his mentor had been as an adolescent. "He really loved Glee. I'm sure he loves teaching it, too."

They were close to the choir room, soft light barely visible across the sunlit floor. The choir room was always dark, the windows never welcoming light in the afternoons, and Emma remembered the single occasion when they had stayed late after school, sneaking into the choir room to share passion in the secrecy that darkness provided. She remembered his kisses, soft against her neck, as her head rested on the floor below the piano. Will had suggested with a smirk they take a look at the piano from below, and as the lame suggestion escaped his lips, he closed the choir room door behind them.

Muffled voices poured through the open doorway. "Were you in Glee?"

"No, I wasn't. But sometimes it felt like I was."

Emma's steps became slower as the voice became louder, and suddenly it all seemed too much. Was it rude to intrude on Will's life like this? He had invited her, but he didn't know any better. She was the sensible one, and she had every ability to disrupt his normality.

"Did he make you listen to too much Journey like he makes us?"

She could hear Will clearly, and so she stopped before the lockers.

Will was teaching. He had found in life exactly what he wanted.

"Pardon?"

Finn shook his head. "Never mind."

Emma licked her painted lips, swallowing. What she didn't know was that, with every insecurity she possessed and all of the trauma she had experienced, she was perfect, and Will wasn't.

Finn smiled widely, stretching his arm out and stepping aside for the redhead dressed so lovely. "You can go in."

A dozen pairs of eyes were on Emma as she walked in, and then they bounced from Emma to their teacher as Will introduced her as a bestselling author and an 'old friend'. Puck asked 'what kind of books' Emma wrote, and Will blushed profusely, as did Quinn, an avid reader. Emma noticed, but she didn't ask the young girl if she was a fan. She figured from the colour of her cheeks that she in fact, was.

For the lesson, Emma watched from the sidelines, like she had for most of their young lives. Will was a wonderful teacher, but most of the lesson featured Finn and Rachel solos and duets and the rest of the class complaining. He was as wonderful a teacher as he was a man, listening to everybody's input, shouted or whispered, hollered or heckled. He spoke to the children on the same level, and Emma found that she liked what she saw more than she was comfortable with.

When the class was finished and the kids had hurried off, Rachel lingered behind, offering suggestions as Emma widened her eyes at the girls enthusiasm. Will ushered Rachel out the door, promising to spend tomorrow's lunch hour discussing 'mechanisms to prevent attention slipping from the focus of the performance- the solo artist'.

Emma giggled quietly, her hair darkening to a chestnut shade as Will flicked the lights off and opened the door for her.

When they reached the car park, his hand was resting gently on the small of her back, where it had found its place outside his choir room. They were quiet when Will locked the school, and they were silent as Emma's heels tapped their way towards her car.

She could feel him all over her skin, inside of her, behind her.

"My mother has been driving me crazy."

He chuckled lowly, his voice husky in the cool air that had frozen her earlier.

"Would you like to come back to my place?" he offered, licking his lips as her fingers tightened around the straps of her handbag. "I can cook dinner for you."

Her eyes locked with his, softening in an instant. "I can't tonight, I'm sorry." His face fell slightly, the wrinkles in his forehead creasing. "Mom's cooking a roast and I have a feeling she hasn't done that since Dad passed."

The corner of Will's lips twitched, his eye squinting slightly as hers often did.

"She has."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "She invited me to dinner one night...and we had roast lamb."

His voice grew quiet as he finished his sentence, trailing off as he watched Emma chew on her bottom lip.

"It's still important, though-for you to send time with your Mom."

Emma nodded quickly, looking down at her shoes, not in the mood to be judged. She wrapped her arms tighter around her middle, her red coat not providing as much warmth as the black coat she had shed on Will's floorboards.

"Would you like to sit in my car for a bit? We can talk until you have to leave, until it gets dark."

Emma nodded, noting in the recesses of her mind that darkness had already settled and they wouldn't have much time.

"My mom heard you're back."

His car was warmer than her borrowed one, as old as Will's was.

"How did she hear that?"

"From me." Emma smiled, turning her head to lock eyes with Will. He grinned back and reached for her fingers. "She'd like to see you, Em."

Emma's fingers were the longest Will had ever seen on a woman's hand, and they were the most beautiful. Her nails were well kept, but not manicured. She was so naturally exquisite, and Will had never felt more alive as her cold fingers warmed in his.

"I'd like to see her." Emma's features relaxed as she let out a deep breath. "How is she? How is your father?"

Her perfume was so possessively intoxicating that he could barely register what she was saying. With his eyes trained on their hands resting against the passenger seat, he forced out an answer.

"They're both really well."

His thumb brushed along the juncture between her thumb and finger and her eyelids fluttered. She looked down to watch him touch her, to see his skin on hers without intent.

True to his word, he was there for her.

He opened his mouth to speak, a croak escaping before he swallowed, and her attention travelled to his features to decipher his emotion.

He started slowly, unsure as to exactly what it was he needed to confess. "I didn't make love to you the other day to get it out of my system." The smile faded from her face, making her as unreadable as Will. He grasped her fingers softly, tighter than before. Her eyes watched his as they turned to look out towards the school. She could feel him trembling in her hold, his nerves shaking in a way that made her heart swell. The vibrations felt so good against her skin, reminding her that she wasn't the only troubled one. "I really hope you don't think that was why...why we made love."

She swallowed, shifting in her seat so that her nylon-covered skin touched the back of his hand lightly. It was hot, seductive and sexual, and if he hadn't looked so sad and hopeful, she would have asked him to make love to her again. He was incredibly handsome, and she just wanted to love him. "No, I don't think that."

She reached her other hand over, resting it upon the leather covered curve of his forearm. Her thumb rubbed lightly against the soft texture and she licked her lips.

"It's okay, Will."

Emma had the softest hands, and with his in hers, he felt safe and forgiven. But there was something about her, something that made his whole body tense when she was in his presence, and the feeling was stronger and more alive than when they were young. Now, the sensation was wild. It was no longer simply about discovery- in the present they craved relief.

"I just can't stop thinking about you." He breathed slowly, his eyes locking with hers again in honesty. "It's exhausting."

His eyes pleaded with her and she was scared and aroused all at the same time. Again, it was all too much and her body couldn't cope. She couldn't handle the anxiety.

She squeezed his hand, slowly removing it from his and setting his down softly against her thigh.

Her volume broke the silence and the sweet tone that had bought a blush to her neck. "Your kids are great, Will." She smiled, and he returned the gesture, adoring her completely. She nodded to brush aside his modesty at the compliment. "I'm really happy for you. You have such a lovely life here. I wouldn't give it up for anything." She gestured, her hands animated as she tried her hardest to be nice, and attempted to be the opposite of honest for his sake.

He gulped, and she watched the lump in his throat bob down and up again. His gaze was so incredibly intense that her eyes widened in battle, and she could feel her lashes stuck together from when her nervous hand had applied her makeup earlier in the day.

His head shook slowly as she bit her bottom lip. His eyes lusted after her, and she was tired, just like him.

His voice was rough. "Don't say that."

She spied him, dramatic and intense, and she wondered how many other woman had been on the opposite end of his gaze. She wondered whether they had felt small and large at the same time, if their bodies had ached for his touch and his attention.

"How long have you been dating Jenny for?"

He was caught off guard by her question.

"A few months." A moment passed as Emma let him continue. "Almost a year."

"Do you love her?" It fell from Emma's lips before she could catch it. "Sorry."

His hands gripped the top of his steering wheel and she watched as he rested his head on the top of the ring, his eyes slipping closed in frustration.

She was out of the car without an answer, making her way towards her own parked car. She heard his door open and his footsteps, like something out of a horror movie. With their history, from an outsider's perspective, perhaps she shouldn't have been so trusting. But the reality was that she hadn't felt so safe in years. He was more guardian angel than threat, but sometimes there was danger in both.

"Good night, Will," she called over her shoulder, hitching her bag up higher on her shoulder.

He caught up, resting his palm upon the roof of her car for balance.

"Good night, Emma. Thank you for coming this afternoon."

She smiled her last smile for the day, and it was an effort. Her words were true, though.

"I really enjoyed it." She lowered her bag into the passenger seat and his other hand fell on the corner of the open door, trapping her so that he could ask her the most important question, one which had kept him awake for the last few nights.

"How are you doing?"

"Sorry?" she raised her eyebrows, realising just how close his face was to hers.

"Are you okay?"he questioned solemnly. "Tonight you just seemed...uncomfortable. At first I thought it was because of what happened between us the other day, but you don't seem to really be bothered by it."

She stared.

"I just hope that you aren't too upset." His eyes were compassionate, not asking anything of her. "You don't have to pretend with me. We used to be best friends."

His lips rested against her temple, soft red hair pillowed against his jaw.

"Good night."

His whisper was as soft as his kiss, perhaps lighter, but only Emma knew. And it was a secret she would take to her grave, amongst others. Only Emma could really know how it felt when 'Will kissed Emma'. She didn't know what it felt like when 'Will kissed Jenny', but it was disparate. And that made the world of difference.

Will stood on Emma's porch at seven-thirty the next morning, dressed in his school best and waiting for an answer.

"Hello, Mrs Pillsbury."

"Hello, sweetheart."

As a boy, he would have been afraid to find Mrs Pillsbury at the door. The woman never took to Will like Mr Pillsbury did. When the elder man died, Will arrived on the Pillsbury porch every Sunday morning, offering company and discussion. The elderly redhead was reluctant and hesitant at first, like her daughter, but soon she warmed up to Will, taking appreciation for what her daughter had discarded when she left for success. Mrs Pillsbury had met the glee club on a number of occasions, especially early on in their relationship when depression had consumed her, and in his best friend's mother, Will had found a sweet companion that showed him as much love as his own mother did.

"I was wondering if Emma was awake, yet?" Will enquired.

"Oh, you came to see Emma! How lovely!" Mrs Pillsbury opened the door for Will, and he stepped closer. "And you bought flowers! You are such a sweet boy, William!" Her exclamations were loud, enough to wake Emma if she was asleep, but Will knew that the Pillsbury's were early risers- perhaps the reason why they were always so exhausted.

"I was just seeing if she'd like to go for a coffee before I head to school?" Will delivered, craning his head subtly for signs of whether the young redhead was awake.

"I was telling her that she must go and see you while she's back," Mrs Pillsbury started. "She will be kicking herself that you're here before she had the chance to surprise you! She's just been so busy that-"

Will pulled his head back, locking eyes with the woman who never terribly liked him as a child.

"She didn't tell you that we've already seen each other?" Will asked curiously.

"You have? Oh, it must have slipped her mind!" it was obvious it hadn't slipped Emma's mind, but he would save that for later, when he was with Emma and they were alone.

Will continued his conversation with his friend, his hold tight around the stems of the daisies. "Yeah, she met the glee club yesterday and we-"

"Good morning, Will."

And there she was, halfway down the staircase, her hair thick with wild red ringlets tied in a high ponytail. Her glasses framed her brown eyes and she looked exactly as he had imagined she would if they had married. How he had hoped, what he had fantasized. If they had a family, if she woke up next to him, if they loved so freely.

Across the street, another woman was looking from her lover's bedroom window.

"Jarrod?"

"Mmm?"

"Is that Emma Pillsbury's house across the street?"

"It's her mothers."

"Is Emma staying there?"

"I dunno."

And Will stepped inside, the screen door closing behind him and the yellow light on the Pillsbury porch flashing sporadically in the daylight.

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews for the last chapter! Every single one excites me and I can't thank those who review enough. Let me know what you think and your thoughts! Every one's opinion counts, otherwise there would be no point writing! And there's no point in writing if you aren't REALLY passionate about it! Until next time!


	22. Reflection

When Emma left Lima suddenly, Will spent an incredibly long time coming to terms with his individuality. The sadness he felt and the impact missing her left on his life caused him to sensationalise their relationship. Every memory was further cherished and every past touch was felt on his skin with a sensation that was missing in the initial discovery. In his mind, he made their relationship out to be something that it never was. He dwelled on the love that they shared and the experiences they brought each other, but he rarely thought of the times that she was distant and the moments when he used her. What happened wasn't anyone's fault. Rather, curiosity and selfishness, qualities of childhood, were to blame.

Will believed their relationship was dead, and so any piece of her that he could get- journals, magazine articles, novels- he grabbed it without a second thought.

So, when Emma returned to Will's life, his desire and love for her was intensified tenfold, and she could feel it perspiring from his skin regardless of how logical a person she was.

In six days, their relationship matured into something that it never was. Coffee the first morning turned into breakfast the second, and on the third day, it was almost a ritual they had been performing for years. She had rarely laughed in the past few months, or for the past year to be more accurate, and the guilt that usually settled in her bones at finding joy was diminished when she realised how much happiness she bought Will.

Late at night, alone, Emma questioned her selfishness. She revealed to herself in an epiphany, as her head rested on her white pillowcase, that Will had another woman to make him happy. She couldn't help but smile to herself in the darkness, remembering Will's amazed features as he found release with her by the lake just days ago.

Having a sick partner for months, which almost ran into years, eventually took its toll. Tim was a good man, but he was never the right man, and a sick man only left Emma numb. The awkward intimacy that became known to Emma and Tim as normal and expected vanished when he became ill, and as she cried herself to sleep at night in their guest bedroom, she always knew that she rarely cried for a man's touch, for her sick partner, or for herself. She was always crying for Will.

Will was a good man, and he was the right man, but more often than not, he was a boy. A boy consumed by dreams and fantasies that you could read simply from looking at him for too long.

On the Sunday evening marking the third week she had been in Lima, Emma was invited to dinner at Will's parent's house. As an only child, Emma never knew what it was like to take part in big family dinners and on her third Sunday in Lima in the twenty-first century, she was not expecting for every Schuester in Ohio to turn up for the Sunday evening meal.

The path leading up to Will's house was as uneven as it was ten years ago, and Emma's three inch heels unsuccessfully attempted to avoid baby potholes as they made their way towards the front steps they had kissed on as children.

They had spent the entire week settling into a relaxed routine of normalcy, as adults who refused to let sexual tension engulf them every waking hour that they spent together. But as Will stepped beside her, his fingers reached out for hers and then retracted, remembering the unspoken guidelines of propriety. Emma didn't even notice.

He started slowly, his gaze downcast as he watched the hem of her blue dress sway around her knees softly. "I've been meaning to ask you, why didn't you tell your mom that we've been seeing each other?"

She hesitated to speak as she took determined steps up to his porch, her pink tongue peaking out between her similarly painted lips to dampen them in nervousness.

"Will!"

A blonde man, slightly taller than Will and equally as handsome stood holding the front door open, his arms parted to welcome Will into his parent's home.

"Em, you remember Adam, right?" Will asked with a grin as he fell into his cousin's masculine embrace.

"Emma?" Adam looked over Will's shoulder, his eyes wide and his smile revealing that he had drunk just the right amount of alcohol to relax. "Jesus Christ! You look like a freakin' angel!"

"Hello, cousin from hell." Emma rebuked dryly with a wide grin, tightening her newly-purchased white coat around her dainty frame. She hadn't expected to stay as long as three weeks in Lima, and yet the thought to move back to New York hadn't crossed her mind in four days. The purchase of new clothes was necessary.

"My sweet, precious, gossiping Aunt-" Adam gestured to Will with his thumb, "this man's mother- told me that you were back for a visit."

"Sure am."

"And have you two been...visiting...each other?" Emma's face went white at Adam's slowly chuckled innuendo.

Will could feel Emma tense next to him, her posture straightening and her flesh poking out between her lips again as he reprimanded his playful cousin. "Adam-"

"I'm just messing with you!" Adam laughed, and Emma realised that he wasn't as drunk as she initially perceived. "I remember what it was like with you two when we were all young. Never got to hear any stories, though. Will was always a prude when it came to circle time and he-"

"Emma should meet Lisa!" Will interrupted with the suggestion, ushering Emma inside, with Adam following behind them.

"His wife," Will whispered warmly against the shell of Emma's ear as they made their way into the house, his breath on her skin making her stand straighter and avoid his gaze.

Introductions were made, and all the while, Emma felt as though she belonged. In that moment, in her ex-lover's home, she believed herself to be Will's wife. When he took her coat, she allowed herself to believe that he would undress her from it a second time later that night, after they checked on their children and made their way to the bedroom to share their love to add to their growing family of four.

There were so many people, and regardless of her fantasies, questions were still asked. It could have been worse- only half of the people Will introduced Emma to on the way to the kitchen asked after Jenny, and it was mostly the men who enquired.

There were three elderly women in the kitchen, hovering around the stove and benches, but it didn't take long for one to turn in Emma's direction.

"Emma Pillsbury!"

Mrs Schuester's arms were open, wide and welcoming like Emma hadn't expected. Emma left without a goodbye, why was everyone being so nice to her?

"It's a bit busy tonight, darling, but I want you to pop over soon so that we can have a chat, okay?"

Emma offered a sweet smile, warmed with honesty that lit her face in quiet relief. She had felt safe in Will's arms by the lake, but now she felt at home. And the latter bypassed the former immensely.

"I would like that."

Emma sat next to Will at dinner, their knees brushing under the table, as the hem of her dress rode up her thighs as she settled herself in. Emma didn't speak much during the meal, and no one really asked why she was there with Will. They kept to themselves and shared conversation with Adam and Lisa. It was easy and subconsciously, Emma could count a number of life regrets on all of the fingers of one hand.

They sat in the backyard after dinner, under the awning with the small fire, a blonde Lisa sipping at vodka as she hashed to Emma the secrets of potty-training a two year old. Emma didn't mind, in fact, her heart ached just a little.

"Have a drink, Em. You look tense." Will spoke, standing next to her chair as he rested a palm on her coat-covered shoulder. She hoped he wouldn't leave a mark on the white fabric, his fingers a darker colour after adding wood to the burning flames.

"I'm not tense." She looked up at Will between her lashes, "And I don't drink."

"There's always room for change," Will muttered as he handed her the glass of white wine in his cleaner hand.

It felt nice, to sit with another couple. When Emma moved to Lancaster, she and Tim left behind their city friends to build a new life comprised of illness and solitude. She knew it was wrong to compare a life of illness to health, but she never perceived herself to be the sick one.

As Adam spoke of college memories, Emma's gaze couldn't help but subtly settle upon the furnishings of the only room visible from the outside. The living room. It hadn't changed much, the only exception being the addition of two new loveseats and fresher memories held captive behind the glass of countless photo frames upon the mantel piece.

The rug beneath the feet of a few family members inside was the same. Same texture, same colour. The tassels at the edges were frayed due to years of vacuuming, but it was the unchanged rug that she had lost her virginity upon, and at that horrible thought, she craved her youthful years.

Will drove her home in the darkness, the silent night that crept up on them as it always did, a labyrinth of circumstances that often ended with a soft goodnight or, on the contrary, laboured breaths.

His eyes found hers as he turned a corner, his upper torso swivelling with the movement of the car.

"Stop confusing me, Will."

He watched her bite her bottom lip between her teeth, and he wondered how they were still so soft, after biting them for the better part of almost thirty years.

He shook his head, his eyes unlocking from hers. "I'm not trying to confuse you." His focus was on the road, the white lines that guided the way. "You just don't know what you want, Emma."

"Wow, Will." It was like she had been hit with a sheet of glass, transparent and bruising. It was the slap across the face that she deserved and needed. "I think I do."

"No, you don't." His voice was calm, his tone even. "That's why you keep looking at me like that."

"Like what?" she raised her eyebrows, her focus also settling on the road ahead.

He sighed. "Like you want me to help you."

Her throat was tight and her words cold and empty, regardless of how beautiful she was. "I don't want your help."

He slumped in his seat, a hand moving from its grip upon the steering wheel to gesture in mid air. "Okay, don't go ruining what we've built these last few days with your stubbornness."

"Don't tell me what to do!" Her voice wasn't raised, just whinny. "You can't lecture about ruining relationships, Will."

Quiet. The car engine strong and louder than it should have been.

Will blinked a few times, gathering his thoughts. "I'm not telling you what to do. You always assume that I am."

Emma felt tired and apologetic and irresponsible.

"Will, I shouldn't have said that."

He shook his head, exhausted himself.

"No, you had every right to." He was so kind to her, so forgiving. "I sexually abused you."

Emma turned her entire body in the seat, causing Will to flinch and readjust himself in his seat.

"Oh God, Will. Don't ever say that."

He was quick to refute her command, his voice thick with emotion and despair.

"It's true. That was exactly what it was."

"No, it wasn't." She was definite, unchanging in her attitude.

"Emma."

"No, it happened to me, so I decide. And you can't just label it like that. You didn't rape me or sexually abuse me, so, please...just don't say that." She watched him, begging for his eyes which he never gave her. "There was so much more involved." Her body relaxed as her voice lowered, softening the anger she felt aching in her bones. And then she spoke the words that would make a reader of their story think, to examine their attitudes toward Will and Emma's past and give the ruined children a chance. "It may have looked horrible to an outsider, but you and I...we felt it. We are the only ones who get to label it. And I choose not to...I choose for the both of us."

She saw the tears pooling in his eyes, so she looked past them and into the hazel depths as his mouth opened, words tumbling out.

"I know you say that you've forgiven me, but I will never forgive myself. And I don't think you truly forgive me."

There was a long silence, but it wasn't awkward, and after a few minutes, Will's car stop on the side of the main road. He parked slowly, turning the engine off as his head craned towards her. She looked beautiful.

He leant forward as her eyelids fluttered, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled deeply. His words were quiet, and she was conscious of the taste of wine on her breath. It was foreign and crazy. "I wish we would stop going around in circles."

His hand reached out, his fingers dancing along her cheek as his palm rested on her jaw line. He swallowed, her eyes widening, the changes so intense due to the proximity they found themselves in.

"I just want to be with you." His whispered, his lips resting on the smooth, velvet skin of her chin.

It was the point of no return.

She whimpered as his lips met hers, his other palm reaching out the curl around the curve of her waist, inching up and up and up as his pecks on her lips became wetter and deeper and longer with the welcoming of her tongue between his lips.

His hand was warm on her breast, his fingers sliding in between the opening of her coat, beneath the V cut of her neckline and resting over her satin bra.

Her face was red in arousal and shyness as his palm rotated slowly, warming her flesh.

"This is getting out of control." Her breath was sweet and wet on his face.

"I can't stop touching you." He confessed between kisses as car headlights whizzed past them, lighting their hair and eyes and skin. "You make me crazy."

Her back arched, her breasts pushing into both of his hands that had found her chest.

"Let's do it."It was a soft plea asking so much of him.

He shook his head his hands leaving her breasts to cup her face in his hands. "Not here."

"Why not?" Her tongue twisted around his, his teeth scraping hers.

"I'm not going to do it in a car with you." He pulled back slightly, his tongue releasing hers and his lips brushing hers. "You deserve so much better than that."

"Please, Will." Her fingers tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer.

He retreated, his hands finding her waist as his lips found her forehead, her breath warm on his neck. A thought crossed his mind, 'Did she really want him, or did she just need to feel wanted?'

"It's late, Em. Let me take you home."

She huffed, pulling away from his hold and resting her elbow on the window edge, her forehead resting in her hand as she rubbed her temple with her thumb in frustration.

Though, she didn't fight back.

When they arrived at her home, she got out quickly, without a good bye. He wasn't in the mood to offer one either, frankly because he was tired of making goodbyes when she just kept coming back to him, teasing and never promising what he truly wanted- a life with her.

She walked around to his side of the car, waiting for him to manually roll down the window.

"I want you to do something for me," she whispered when he gave her his full attention.

"Anything."

"I want you to meet me in town tomorrow night," she spoke as her gaze fixed on the ground beneath her feet.

"Should I book a restaurant?" He asked.

"No. I want you to meet me at the inn." She looked up, her eyes locking with his as she conveyed her intentions. "I'll wait in the car park until you arrive."

"Emma, I-"

"Just come, Will. For me."

There was a feeling that came after any form of shared intimacy for Emma. It was an emotion that ran over her skin, crawling and nibbling its way to the hollow of her throat to squeeze tightly, as she waved softly at Will's car from her mother's dark porch.

On six on Sunday morning, in the icy cold, Emma decided to garden. She began working in the darkness, her gloved hands immune to the cold as her mind replayed the heat she felt with Will's hands on her breast only hours before. She tore at weeds and vines with her bare hands, and used sharp gardening tools to hack away at knee-height, dead bushes. Her jeans were marked with dirt and the snow jacket she wore grew lighter as she moved around her mother's dead garden.

At eight-thirty, the row of bushes across the front picket fence was removed, and Emma was empting the only bag of soil that she had upon the naked ground for more planting. Making a mental decision to clean up before nine so that she could be at the hardware to buy more soil and plants before the Sunday crowd, a flash of beige caught Emma's attention; beige, and then dark brown hair- as shinny as the colour black.

Emma's bent wrist found her forehead, swiping away at the non-existent sweat on her skin and brushing aside the red strands that had fallen in her way.

Their eyes met, as much as Emma could make out without her glasses, and she tried, she really did. Emma's smile was warm and soft, friendly towards the woman whose boyfriend Emma had shared herself with in the passenger's seat of a car the night before.

She had no idea that Jenny lived across the street from her mother's house. Had Jenny seen Will dropping her off the night before? Why would Will be so careless if his girlfriend lived across the street?

Even with her poor eyesight, Emma could see that before Jenny got in to her car, she didn't smile back.

And worry settled in Emma's chest.

AN: Sorry about the wait, I've been having a little trouble deciding on direction and what Will and Emma want, but know I know what needs to happen to my little puppets. Thoughts? Comments? Heckling? I'll take it all! Thank you so much to my faithful reviewers! Your stories keep me interested in writing my own, because it is just THAT much fun.


	23. Blindness

Emma promised to wait for Will in the parking lot of the Inn, but he was there before she arrived.

No words were spoken or welcomed as their eyes met across the gravel and he recognised that his suspicions were correct. By the time she had the key in her hand and he was standing next to her, his heart was threatening to explode from his chest in arousal and nervousness.

Her fingers tangled in his, and the door was bolted behind them.

They stood there, like children, staring at the queen- sized bed that offered them their freedom and release, which they craved like animals.

Her fingers were raking the clothes of his body before he realised, and in truth, everything was a blur for him until they were naked in each other's arms by the door, their clothes pooled around their bare feet. The bed was inviting, taunting and teasing from a distance as they stood there, mouths connected, warm and wet, the draft from outside blowing under the door and instantly cooling their burning feet. Wills fingers clutched at Emma's curvaceous rear, her own palms curved around his neck, bringing her closer and pressing firmer against his arousal.

The hotter and sweatier it became, the more insistent Emma pressed, guiding the way to the bed where they fell, their most intimate parts touching, wet and warm and wanted.

"Emma, I just want to be close to you again. It's been so long," Will whispered, his lips against her ear as he rubbed against her, listening to her mews of satisfaction. They grinded their way up the bed, their bodies lifting and falling against the mattress as they centred themselves, tongues slack and needy.

The room was dark but for the florescent light outside, the sign blinking 'vacant' above their window.

And then he was inside of her, cries echoing around the cheap motel room as they refused time the permission to wait, their bodies moving madly against the other in desperate hope of any form of release.

Will's lips found Emma's shoulder, his tongue lapping against freckles as he thrust into her, struggling to keep up with the pace she set.

She needed something, anything. Deeper. Harder. It was too slow.

She pushed on his shoulder harshly, her body rolling on top of his, feeling him sink deeper into her.

"I love how you taste. I love how you smell. I love how you feel." The words seemed to tumble from his lips without permission as her body writhed above him. She was desperate and needy and hidden beneath the dirtiness of it all was love, trapped by the rubble.

His hands reached up to cup her tiny breasts, her pretty pink nipples hard against his fingertips.

"Please...do something..." she was moaning into the heavens, betraying her ladylike exterior. "Make me come."

He wanted to mark her somehow, a physical mark that made her his, but unbeknownst to him, the decade old scar he made hadn't faded. It was wrong and dirty and everything that he was against, but he needed to scratch her or bite her, or suck her pale skin too hard. It was unexplainable, and it frightened him.

"It feels so good, Will."

She whimpered as though pained, in a violent contradiction. Her body rose and wildly fell above his, her insides clenching around him as his finger teased her for a pleasured moment.

He shuddered as she groaned, her fingers clutching at his hair as he sat up with her in her moment of ultimate satisfaction. Their bodies pressed together, every inch of skin sweaty and sliding against the other, her nipples catching on the hairs of his chest.

The new angle brought stars to her eyes, his finger pressing between their bodies as she convulsed in his arms, her insides throbbing as he found his own release.

When it was over, they were nothing more than naked bodies tangled in exhaustion and satisfaction.

Emma's svelte body rested next to Will's, her chest heaving and her features relaxed and unreadable. Though, they hadn't even switched on a light. Will's palm rested on her naked shoulder blade, his other arm winding around her to bring her closer- to spoon his lover. They were warm bodies, and she felt cold.

"I don't think I miss Tim as much as I should." It was random and out of place, but it was the most appropriate confession. "I don't think I loved him as much as I should have."

Will's kisses on her neck ceased, the ends of her messy hair tickling his chin. His pal flattened against her abdomen, and he whispered of his jealousy.

"It makes me sick to think of his hands on you."

He felt the tightening of her abdominal muscles as she murmured, "What?"

Will sighed, his lips pressing against the shell of her ear. "Your partner. Tim. I just...I don't like knowing that his hands were on your skin."

"Why?" She couldn't stop the tiny grin that broke out across her lips.

"Because I've never made love to you the way he did."

Emma pulled back, her hair wiping his face softly as she turned her body to face Will, slipping from his hold.

"We just made love." She spoke, her tone offended and confused.

"No, we didn't." He nibbled at her neck, moving closer to dispel the awkwardness that he had created. "We fucked." And they hadn't even used protection.

She looked apologetic and embarrassed, her eyes lighting up with humiliation.

"Was it not good for you?" she moved from the bed, her eyes trying to adjust to the darkness and locate her panties. The motel sheets were rough against her naked thighs as she gave Will her back. She sounded so sad.

"No, it was good," he muttered, trying his hardest to reassure her of his pleasure. "It was just very...fast."

Emma turned, her panties found and in hand, her eyes locking with his as she blushed.

"Sometimes I have trouble...you know...coming, if it's too slow."

Realisation hit him coldly, and Emma just looked ashamed, when it was Will's fault. The reason for her sexual dysfunction was obvious, and it turned Emma's skin a bright shade of pink as the bright light from outside lit her face dully.

She pulled her panties on, wishing that things didn't have to be so difficult. In her heart of hearts, she just wanted him to hold her.

"Don't go."

She stood at the end of the bed in her panties, the peach colour sweet against her pale skin. She couldn't spend the night with him- that would be wrong and selfish. How could she let him hold her and leave him the next morning? That was cruel and unjust.

"We have to be more careful Will," she lectured as her eyes left his and she began her search for more clothes. "Anyone could see. Especially across the street from my mother's house."

She picked her bra up amongst the pile of clothes by the door, slipping it on and secretly wishing it was Will's lips against her nipples rather than the satin.

"Jarrod won't tell anyone. We don't have to worry about him."

As Emma reached for her white cardigan by the door, something caught in her chest.

"Jarrod?" Emma asked nonchalantly, slipping her skinny arms into the holes as she faced the grimy white door.

Will smiled to himself as he admired her half-dressed form, her behind the sexiest he had ever seen.

"He only bought that place a few months ago."

And Emma's face fell completely, her heart crying for him and everything he had lost.

Emma barely slept that night in her childhood bed. Tossing and turning, so distraught she couldn't even bring herself to tears, her heart ached for Will and the horrors people inflicted on the poor guy.

When the fingertip of her forefinger pressed the antique-looking doorbell of Will's home the next morning, she was going to tell Will about Jenny's indiscretion. She really was.

If Jenny never answered.

Jenny's eyes were dark, almost the shade of her hair, but in the presence of the pathetic, Emma's posture was bold and straight. A tirade of brief concerns wavered through Emma's mind. If Jenny was here so early, when exactly had she arrived? Had she been waiting for Will when he returned from the Inn? What time did they leave the Inn? Was it late? Early? Did Will sleep with Jenny after Emma?

The brunette seemed to be biting the insides of her mouth, her cheeks hollowing to curves of ventriloquy. Emma should have been frightened, and she would have been, if Jenny was sweet and kind and simply a threat. Though, the woman was cruel, and not just in her actions. Jenny possessed the kind of beauty that insinuated darkness, her features describing a tolerable evilness that was seductive in every way that Emma wasn't. And it made Emma feel like a better person, stronger, untempted, and innocent.

The door was pushed open by Jenny, and when she met the pretty eyes of Emma, she looked away, as though burned, and stood back for Emma to walk into the small apartment. They stood there for a moment, waiting for the other to speak, but no words came. Emma could hear the shower running down the hall.

Emma wondered if it would do any good to threaten Jenny, to tell her that she knew what was happening and to stop it, but Emma didn't want it to be over- she wanted Will to herself. His complete and undivided attention and affection.

"I have to show you something important," Jenny whispered, her voice hoarse and regretful, a tone Emma doubted could ever escape the woman's lips. And she was a woman- more of a woman than Emma felt herself to ever be.

It was strange, following another woman into Will's bedroom as he showered, unknowing that she was in his home.

As steam rolled under the en suite door like a deadly fume to poison Emma, Jenny bent lowly, reaching under Will's bed to retrieve a large box, seemingly hidden behind others.

It looked heavy as Jenny placed it upon the comforter, quickly lifting the cardboard lid to reveal the contents, as Emma stood back, her toes wiggling uncomfortably in her brown boots and her hands fisted against her sides.

"These are yours." Jenny's whisper was low, for Emma's ears only. The redhead moved closer to Will's bed, peering into the box to find magazines and loose clippings and a few thicker books. Jenny continued, "I found them one day when I was looking for my engagement ring."

Emma's brown eyes shot up to meet Jenny's black ones.

"You're engaged to Will?"

The brunette shook her head, her features blank and unreadable. "No. But I read through his bank statement and he made a rather generous purchase at a jeweller a few months ago."

Emma bit her lower lip, eyes pricking with tears she blinked away. "Oh."

Jenny fingered the few top magazines, flicking the edges as her other fingers brushed loose clippings away like dust that had settled. "There are dozens of articles and magazine clippings all about you. I went through them. Most of them are pretty old."

In her state of shock and pain, Emma was petrified that the shower would turn off and Will would waltz out, finding the women there with his secret box of heartache open for public viewing.

Jenny's palm rested flat against the pile, her fingers holding down the glossy papers as though they would magically flutter into the air around them, a mystic wind lifting the printed papers to tornado around the women.

"He said your name once, when he was making love to me," Jenny croaked. "It was a long time ago- when we first started dating. It didn't really bother me. I think he knew that he said it, but we didn't talk about it."

Emma stood there listening, her mind empty and the familiar feeling of trauma settling in her throat.

"And then one day we were at a coffee shop and he was ordering. He turned to me and said, 'what do you want, Em?'"

Emma could feel her teeth sinking into her skin, and she wished she could taste blood, to feel the pain Will had inflicted upon her and be able to place a name to it- to recognise what it was exactly.

"He pines after you."

Someone had finally said it. Will's other lover had admitted it for the both of them.

The shower ran and ran and Emma tried to imagine the pellets of water raining down Will's chest, desperate to escape the position Jenny had placed her in.

"You aren't going to stick around for long, and we both know that. How about you have your fun with my boyfriend, get it out of both of your systems, and in the meantime, keep your pretty little lips sealed." Jenny's long fingers with their perfectly painted nails grabbed at the lid of the box, placing it back on top recklessly as she advised Emma bitterly.

"Will you stop cheating on Will?" Emma asked as she watched Jenny bend down to hide the box under the bed where it came from.

"When I get my boyfriend back."

Emma's left eyebrow raised in frustration.

"That's a little unfair, Jennifer."

Jenny turned abruptly as Will's melodious voice escaped from under the door, a sound that would have bought a smile to Emma's face if he were in her shower, or if Jenny simply wasn't in a ten mile radius.

"Don't judge me," Jenny brushed past Emma and out into the hall, where Emma quickly followed. This mess was here long before you showed up."

Emma clenched her teeth together, hating the woman like never before. Jenny pulled the door open, her hand tight on the door knob.

"I think you should leave now."

Emma moved closer, their faces near, a dangerous distance between them.

"I came to see, Will."

"Well I don't want you to." Jenny's words were venomous, her coffee-breath suffocating Emma. "Go back to your mother's, Emma. And then, go home to New York, or Los Angeles, or wherever you came from."

"Jenny!" Will called from behind closed doors. "Can you bring me a towel?"

And Emma left at his request, her chest aching that she wasn't the one he called for.

Emma's blood boiled all the way home, her doll-like features suddenly older and uglier as she replayed absolutely everything. Her first kiss, her first touch, her first heartache.

So much guilt and so much blame, though whose shoulders could it rest upon?

As Emma turned Tim's car into the driveway, she spied movement in her rear vision mirror, and another situation presented itself.

Jarrod smiled as Emma made her way across the street, her boots slamming across the road as her mother watched curiously from the kitchen window, eyeing her daughter who had changed so completely.

"Wanna help me get these inside, babe?" Jarrod asked as he hitched a bag of groceries up to his hip, nodding his head towards the other bags.

"I know you're sleeping with Jenny."

Jarrod's eyebrows shot up, realising that the redhead wasn't as sweet as she appeared. Emma's lips twitched as she pushed back tears, "I don't know how you could do that to Will. It would destroy him if he found out."

Jarrod set the bags in his hands down in the back of the car, his arms crossing against his chest to protect himself.

"I don't really think it would, you know, Emma."

Emma's eyes bore into his, her body rigid and furious.

"Of course it would."

Jarrod shook his head, leaning back against the car. It was so different to Will's car, so polished and clean.

"No. I think if we had a little something going on, that would destroy him."

Emma's eyes widened, offended and shocked. Her red hair blew around her face in the cold wind, and she wanted Will to protect her from everything.

"Well that wouldn't be happening," she spoke with power, an authority that would make Will take a step back.

"Why not?" Jarrod questioned, though his intent was to uncover the extent of her emotion for his friend, rather than proposition. Emma hated him.

"Because I could never hurt Will like you two are."

Jarrod shook his head, his eyes boring into her large brown ones as he licked his lips.

"You're the worst. You just being here is bringing him more pain than he's ever known."

And Emma's mother called her in for lunch.

AN: Thank you to everyone who reviews! I would love to hear what you think about this chapter if you have the time, and most importantly, I hope you enjoyed it!


	24. Rebirth

They were sipping warm beverages in the coffee shop in greater Lima late one evening, darkness setting in outside as they sat and whispered quietly, like adulterers. Rain drizzled across the main road outside, but it hit the window aggressively, casing Will and Emma to rest their gazes on each other rather than the drops flying at the glass, trying to touch them, affect them, wet them.

She wasn't perfect that evening: she didn't look like a doll. Her hair was tied up messily in a ponytail, red stands lightly framing her tired features. Brown frames- a spare pair- sat on the edge of her nose, often edging their way down her freckled nose. More than once, she brought her index finger to the tip of her nose, resting it in the sweet dent of the arch and drawing an invisible line over her pale skin, gently shoving the plastic into place. He noticed the little things; Will recognised simplicity, always.

It was there, in the dimly lit coffee shop with barely any customers, as they sat by the window while the rain poured outside, that Will asked Emma to go house hunting with him. He explained his lease was up, that the people from whom he was subletting, were going to need their apartment back when they returned from Toronto, and Emma agreed. What he didn't tell her, was that the house he was searching for was the one he was planning to share his life with Jenny, when Emma left for her own home, back to the nowhere where she belonged.

When they arrived the next afternoon, just after midday, Emma realised what it was all about. She spied the house from the end of the driveway, her stomach knotting and a lump forming in her throat as Will pointed out healthy the grass looked, how many trees lined the front fence, and the little renovations that were needed to make the house a home. She despised Will and his optimism, her gaze resting out the passenger window as her teeth clenched in confusion and jealousy.

The details of the house didn't matter. The only thing that registered in Emma's mind was that the picture of Will on those steps, examining the exterior of the house, was one that would haunt her forever if she didn't do something about the wide smile etched across his features.

It was completely out of his price range and he looked absolutely ridiculous standing on the white porch.

"It's very big, Will," was her lone statement when his eyes searched proudly for her approval.

Emma stood back, her peripheral vision admiring the double-storey home with resentment. She drowned out his words as he went on and on about how Jenny had always shown interest in this house and how funny it was that this was Terri Del Monaco's childhood home. Emma forced a grin, her arms crossed and her body tense as she followed Will up the stairs.

Emma waited patiently by the front door as Will spoke to the realtor, a glimmer in his eyes that she hadn't seen for a long time. His smirk was wide when he came back to her, nodding his head toward the banister as he held hand out for Emma, always a gentleman. For once, Emma wished he wouldn't be so kind.

What he was doing was crueller than asking Emma to pick out Jenny's engagement ring- this was Emma's life, the future she dreamt of as a girl, and she was evaluating it for Jenny's future happiness. Driving up to the house had affected her most, and after that she had seemed to have gone numb in her efforts to act nonchalantly. He wasn't doing it on purpose, and she loathed him for not realising how much it could hurt her. Though, in complete honesty, she hated herself the most. More than Jenny for asking her to leave, more than Tim for dying, more than Will for being so lovely, more than Jarrod for his honesty. Walking through the house didn't eat at Emma as much as she thought it would, it didn't make her skin crawl or her eyes sting.

As they ascended the stairs, Emma could hear the realtor downstairs, giving the young blonde couple the tour of the kitchen, soft muffled voices mumbling about the gas oven and its age. Why on earth did she agree to this?

While Will examined the master bedroom, Emma waited by the top of the banister, her disinterest and remorse oblivious to Will as he noted a stain in the carpet by the en suite. Emma hummed a reply, her eyes trained on the tips of her wet gumboots. It had snowed the night before, for the very first time that year, and it was beautiful. The wind had settled and the snow simply fell, a balance presenting itself sweetly, like a welcomed introduction. It was cold, the longing for another body to curl up with toying with Emma's desires; though, just warm enough to watch the ice fall and not resent it. Emma had watched the snow fall from her bedroom window, wishing for everything that could have been. Wishing for Will. Wishing for a pen. Wishing for a blank sheet of lined paper.

When they arrived at the small room next to the master bedroom, everything seemed to crash down around her. Will leant against the frame of the door, a sigh escaping his lips and his lips twitching into a smile before the muscles cramped and his lips straightened. He looked pained, but Emma felt it deeper.

The space was obviously a nursery- the neutral colours, the pelican patterned strip of wallpaper that ran across one side of the room.

Will continued to stare. The room was only big enough for one, and perfect for a baby. Will's baby. Jenny's baby.

"I came by your house the other morning. Jenny answered the door. You were in the shower."

The words slipped from her lips and she rushed to get them out before she stopped herself. It was quick- like ripping off a bandaid.

She didn't tell him about the box- that would have been cruel- though she almost added the discovery to her confession, before she managed to censor her words.

"Oh."

"She's sleeping with, Jarrod."

"What?"

"I'm so sorry."

"How do you know that?"

"I saw her leaving his house a few weeks ago, but I thought that she lived there until you told me."

The discussion was so calm. His face fell and she could just feel everything that he was feeling, mixed with her own concerns that seemed to be aged a thousand years.

"Will, I-"

"It's okay, Emma."

His eyes asked her questions, and she realised that he knew. He knew everything and he had turned a blind eye to it. He knew his girlfriend was having an affair, yet he still imagined a future, because as horrible as it was, it was realistic. It could happen. Will could still marry the brunette girl, despite everything that had happened. His gaze bore into Emma's- what should I do? Tell me what to do and I'll do it.

Emma responded with a question of her own.

"Should we leave, Will?"

"You tell me, Emma." He turned his body to mirror hers, both of them leaning against the door frame. "Should we leave?"

"Do you want this house?" she whispered, hearing the realtor step outside with the other two.

"Do you think I should take it?" There it was- her opportunity to say no. Pick me. Take me. Adore me.

Emma had ended it for him, the bravest of all acts, the hardest thing she would ever have to do, and he still chose his routine life, unhappiness. She gave him an excuse with telling him about Jenny, and he was still asking her to be the one to make the decision. Why did it have to be her? Why did she have to destroy everything?

"I can't play this game with you anymore."

When he caught her arm, she was on the bottom step. His fingers closed around her forearm, anchoring her to the ground.

"Tell me what you want, Emma."

He always seemed to push and push until she couldn't fathom a single thought that tumbled around in her mind.

"Not what you want, Will."

She pried his fingers off her arm, making her way toward the front door. Such a long hallway- another thing to hate about this house.

"How the hell do you know what I want?" he called from behind her, causing her to spin and raise her finger, retracing her steps as she stabbed him in the chest with her finger as tears formed in her eyes.

"I just told you that she was having an affair, Will!" Her voice was wavering as she spoke to his vest-covered chest, her fingertip twisting in a button as salty tears ran down her cheeks. "I told you because it was the wrong thing for her to do! I was trying to help you, and I thought that maybe...just maybe, if she wasn't in your life anymore, then you would choose me. Because I'm here. I'm here now. And I'm not going to be here forever."

His eyes were pooling with tears, the hazel sparkling as he grasped her forearms desperately, his knees bending as he tried to get on a closer level to her. His forehead rested against hers as a few tears trailed down his cheeks, his grip puling her closer to him. "What do you want me to do?"

Her palms were flat against his pectoral muscles, pushing him away, feeling the warmth of his body that she had craved for absolute ever. "I want you to end it with her, because she hurt you! She's spiteful and vindictive and she doesn't love you like I love you."

His touch left her in shock, his face falling in depression and pity.

"And she'll still be here when you're gone..." his hands clasped together as though in prayer and he brought them to his lips as he spoke softly, remorse evident in his tone.

She shook her head, her eyes suddenly angry for the lack of trust and faith he had in her. "Maybe I won't go!" her voice was louder now, and had they been paying attention to anybody but themselves, they would have heard the back door open, and then close, as the other couple decided it was best to stay outside, wait out the storm.

Will gestured wildly with his hands, his voice rising to compete with hers, "Maybe you should!"

"Yeah?" she challenged, her eyes wild and her hair perfect.

"Yeah!" It was an empty suggestion, and they both paid no attention to the reply.

She swiped at her tears with the cuff of her jacket, her hair soft around her distressed features. "What the hell do you want from me? I tried Will. I told you and you still want more from me. I just don't know how to keep giving."

Her back rested against the door, slumping slightly as she gave in.

There was a moment before he began. If she had known what was coming, she would have prepared herself. If she wasn't so completely drunk on distress, she would have farewelled unhappiness and angst.

"I'll tell you what I want," he started softly, and continued softly, his words only for her ears. "I want _you_. I need _you_."

His eyes met hers, and both of their tears stopped.

"When you're not around, I just don't know what to do. And it isn't because I'm totally, absolutely, completely in love with you that it makes me want to scream. It's because you're my best friend and I adore you. I adore you so much sometimes I just want to strangle you when you tease me. I want to touch you and hold you and _be_ with you."

Her lips twitched into a smile, and as cold, icy air blew under the front door, their lives began.

"I want you, in a home that is ours, and in it, I want to fight with you over what you believe is correct grammar. I want to make love to you in ways you never have been made love to before and I want to kiss you in ways that you've never been kissed. I want your sweaty palm in mine when you give birth to our child. I want to watch you love our children and I want us to teach them how to swim in the lake that I first kissed you. I want us to sit up together until three am making school projects for our kids."

She stood up straighter as he moved closer to her, watching her lips curl into a grin.

"I don't want this big house and I don't want Jenny...I want you."

The second after he was finished, Emma's fingers reached out, curling around the edge of his sweater and pulling him closer.

His eyes met hers; loving, but empty, and they were saved from ruining the moment with the extent of their lust for each other.

"Mr Schuester, I understand that this may be a little out of your price range, but I think we could manage to come up with a-"

"It's okay. Thank you, but I don't want this house." Will cut off the interruption from the realtor, his eyes boring into Emma's before he turned and gave his attention to the elderly woman.

"We have a new opening for a house out by the-"

Will shook his head. "No, thank you. I think I'll start looking for another apartment."

Emma pushed herself off the door, stepping next to Will and contemplating whether or not to grasp Will's hand in her own as he gave up his future for another.

"An apartment? Are you sure? You said you were trying to accommodate for your future and with the limited space in apartments and condos-"

Emma grasped Will's hand, hers shaking and his vibrating, causing a sensation to run thought her body as her chest seemed to loosen.

"I really just want an apartment. I think I'll start looking in a few days."

When they left, he was quiet. His hand dropped hers as he started the car, and he didn't pick it up again. Panic rose in her chest for a second before he shared a tired smile with her, both hands resting on the steering wheel as he concentrated on the road. He had no idea what he was losing and whom he was gaining.

"I need to go home and speak to Jenny." Emma didn't ask why, and she honestly didn't know.

"I'm going to call it off."

A tear slipped from her cheek. Suddenly, she wanted to tell him about the box, about her novels-that he was always the man that seduced the girls, it was always Will.

"Can you take me to your mother's house? I'll walk home from there."

Her whisper was soft as she focused her eyes on the road ahead.

"Of course."

What would happen now? How long would it be before she saw him next? Did she really promise she would stay?

"Thank you for coming with me today, Emma."

His words were softly spoken when they arrived outside his childhood home, his father on the front porch swing with a newspaper and a cup of steaming liquid. The snow covered his front lawn and Emma had never felt so whole.

When Will waved to his father and the elderly man waved back, Emma leant over, without thinking, and like a school girl, planted a sweet kiss against Will's cheek. His skin was soft, the nicest she had ever felt beneath her lips.

"I adore you." She whispered before she stepped out of the car.

Will noticed the growing blush on her cheeks as she spoke to his father, and he waited a while before driving off, watching the woman he would marry on his parents porch, her cheeks red from loving Will too much.

He couldn't wait to meet Emma again. And what a reunion it would be.

AN: Hello, hello! There are a few more chapters to go and then it will all be over for these AU characters. I think it's time. They've had their turn. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I would love to hear your thoughts! They really do keep me interested. As always thank you to those who review. There's a special little group who are very faithful to each other and always respectful of each other's work, and to them I just want to say thank you. Your reviews mean the most to me and I hang on your every word!


	25. Beginnings

When Will dropped Emma off at his parent's house that afternoon, it was the last he saw of her for three long weeks. Sure, he passed her in the mornings on his way to school when she was shovelling snow from the driveway. He waved to her across the street the day he went to visit Jarrod and Jenny in Jarrod's home, for a much needed discussion. But Will hadn't really seen Emma, not how he would have liked to. Somehow though, things had changed, and with Emma's promise to not disappear in the meantime, Will began to relax. As best he could.

Will had spent the week with Jenny, helping her move out and back into her old apartment. Will thought it best to move into his parent's house until Jenny moved back into her apartment, and she didn't stop him. It made his decision that much easier. Their break up was civil, guilt suffocating both of them. Will tiptoed around Jenny, giving her the time she honestly deserved, and for the most part, she accepted his help with the move. It could have turned nasty. Will waited for the day Jenny would suggest they both forget their indiscretions and continue living the way they were. Each morning Will arrived to his own apartment, the weeklong task of moving taking its toll on him as he moved her boxes from his apartment and into her car. Each morning he expected her to say something, request his forgiveness, but she didn't, and he respected her for it.

Now that Will didn't have the dreaded thought that she would pack up and leave without a goodbye, for a second time, weighing on his conscience, he was free to just think about her. How she looked, how she tasted, how she smelt. How she made Will feel. He had no idea in which direction their relationship was headed, and he hadn't spent much time thinking about the possibilities that could have been running through Emma's mind.

And in truth, she hadn't had much time to think about it.

The first week Will and Emma were apart, Emma had gone with her Mother to visit her aunt in Indiana. It had been dull and quiet, and more than enough time to think, Emma had made a decision.

Within the next two weeks, she had taken on a project of her own.

After making her secret purchase, something she had kept under wraps from everybody, including her mother, she had been incredibly busy. It was hard to keep a secret, a certain something that would raise eyebrows in such a manner if people knew for just whom she was buying it. The lady who assisted her in making the purchase had raised her eyebrows, asking Emma if she was engaged and planning a surprise for her husband- a little engagement present. Emma had shaken her head, earning a tight-lipped scowl. "Don't you think this is a little...daring, when you aren't committed to the person you will be...sharing this with?" the saleslady had asked sweetly. With a blush, Emma had politely told the older woman that in her position of employment, she had no right to judge, and that she should be more than comfortable with women making such purchases. She hid the small, velvet blue box under her bed, imagining how her mother's eyes would bulge if she found it. Though, every night, before bed, Emma would open the box, resting the lid on her duvet as she peered inside. For two weeks, it was her nightly ritual, and she anticipated the day that she could share her present with Will. It was for the both of them, after all. There was no fun in buying it for herself. That image would have been depressing.

The night they drove to the lake for the first time since it had begun to snow, it was late and freezing and romantic. Will's fingers were relaxed on the steering wheel as Emma sat patiently in the passenger seat, attempting wholeheartedly to keep the stupid grin off her face. Boy, was Will about to get a surprise.

She had phoned Will the night before, the first time they had spoken in three weeks, and she had asked him to pick her up at 9 the following night. He was soft spoken in his agreement and the hint of his smile left her feeling relaxed and a little less guilty for such feelings only months after her boyfriend had died. She had taken the little blue box from its hiding place before she went to bed and placed it on her nightstand, her eyes resting upon it before she went to sleep. She drifted off, imagining Will's expression when she gave him his present.

When they were young and the lake would begin to freeze over, Will would play an incredibly daring game to see how far he could make it across the pool of water until he feared the ice would crack beneath his weight. Emma would stand by the edge in the cool breeze, begging for him to some back to safety-to her- and she would jump up and down as she scolded him, her red curs flying in the wind. It was thrilling and stupid, and each time when he would return from meters out across the lake, she would jump into his arms, laughing and sighing, and Will would feel like he was on top of the world, like he was invincible.

As they turned off the main road and down the gravel road to the lake, Will slowed the car, but Emma muttered softly, "Keep driving."

"Into the lake?"

She chuckled, her eyes meeting his as they sparkled with patience.

Emma shook her head, lifting her arm to point down a dirt road covered in snow. "No, down the driveway."

"Emma, that's private property."

"Uhuh."

He shook his head, grinning as he turned off his head lights and drove slowly through the snow. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her grinning, and he had never been happier.

"Stop here." She commanded, and he slowed the car and shut off the engine.

Were they going to have celebratory sex in someone's driveway because it was too cold outside and this was the closest that they could get to the lake without getting out of the car? She was romantic.

Emma grinned widely before opening her door, stepping out into inches of snow. The breeze off the lake was like ice, a chill running down her spine and spitefully setting an ache in her back. As she waited for him to get out of the car, she pulled her black coat around herself tighter, wishing he would hurry up.

"Is there a reason why we're here?" he asked as he pulled the beanie down over his ears. He looked sceptical as she chipped away at the paint beneath one of her fingernails.

"Yes." She copied him, pulling her beanie down over her ears as the wind assaulted her ear drums. He stopped, meeting her at the front of his car, the vehicle fuming a heat that was appreciated. Emma straightened her scarf as she whispered lowly, "Welcome home."

His eyes widened. "I'm sorry?"

Emma watched Will for a moment, basking in his confusion.

She dug deep into the inner pocket of her coat, producing a small blue box of velvet material. Will peered down at her; his eyes squinted as the wind howled. Emma stepped closer, lifting the lid.

A gold key rested in a pillow of stain. Alone. Unmarked. His.

Emma lifted the key from the box as Will stared, afraid he might have dropped it in the snow. He watched her fingers grasp the tiny key and hold it up for closer viewing. Will's eyes met hers, warm and knowing, and she shared the moment before looking towards the large house in the darkness. Will followed her gaze, his eyes watering from the cold and Emma's undeniable sweetness.

"I found you a home," she whispered, and Will's heart soared.

His gaze met Emma's again, his lips parted in shock.

"I hope you don't mind, but I'll be living here, too."

There wasn't a second before Will's lips met Emma's in a sweet kiss. It began as chaste, but with a single touch of his lips to hers, he could taste her. As he pressed his lips harder against Emma's, her lips slipped open, inviting the warm wetness of his tongue to explore her mouth again. She moaned, her tongue tangling with his as she pressed the key in her hand into the skin, her desire for Will clouding her senses and driving her wild.

"Take me inside and make love to me." It escaped her lips as she twisted her tongue from his, before covering his mouth with hers again. The warmth was lovely as the icy breeze assaulted their bodies, held against each other as the snow fell upon the shoulders of their coats.

His brain was foggy with the thought that he could feel her chest pressed up against his, beneath all the layers of clothing, her heart was beating for him. She pried his lips from hers again a whimper escaping into the night air before she begged, her lips swollen, "Show me how to make love...slowly."

His lips parted with hers slowly, and he whispered against her lips, "Not yet."

"I'm sorry?"

He grasped her hand, her naked fingers cold in his. They walked slowly towards the front steps, and he stopped, his feet buried in snow as they stood in the centre of the yard.

She turned, looking up at him with a smile on her face, curious and expectant. She couldn't wait to show him the work she had done inside.

Emma shivered, and Will pulled her closer, his arms linking at the small of her back as he rested his forehead against hers.

"This is a new beginning, Emma." His breath was warm as it ricocheted off her chin. "We've both worked so hard to get where we are now, without any strings attached." His nose touched hers and she smiled, aware for the first time that Jenny and Will were over. "I want us to try, really try, to be together. I want to live with you here. I want to share a life with you where we can learn how to be two people who would rather be together than apart." His words were painted with promise, his respect for their relationship so admired. "I don't want to go rushing into all this without some kind of safety net to catch us."

She waited, lips parted as his eyes shared secrets with hers. His breath smelled of mints and lemon and his arms were strong around her as he continued.

"This is going to be our home, and it is so wonderful of you to do this for me- for us. But first, I want to just be with you, without sex, without pain. I want us to just be us, in a home that we share. Can we try that?"

Emma grinned, her lips resting on the tiny scar beneath his chin; a scar she had kissed passionately many years ago in the throes of passionate recklessness.

"Of course we can," Emma whispered, content and proud. She hesitated as Will placed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "So, what does that mean exactly?"

"It means that I think we should wait before we consummate our relationship."

His words were soft and honest, but Emma couldn't help the giggle that escaped between her lips.

"Will, I think we consummated our relationship a long time ago."

He pulled back with a boyish grin, distancing her an arm's length away, a blush rising on his cheeks as he adjusted her position in the snow.

"No, no. This is new. Right here, right now. It's a beginning, a new chance- and we need to take it." His tone revealed the amount of time he had spent thinking this through. "When we do take that step, properly, I want it to mean something, like it always should have." Emma's lips parted to interrupt him, but he stepped closer and raised a finger to her lips. "Sex- It isn't important compared to everything that we are going to have here," he gestured around, his hand waving at the house. "I think we need to be grown ups and learn that."

She was patient. Judging by the intense look on his face, he had more to say. This was something she had not expected. In honesty, she hadn't really thought about what would happen after she introduced him to their home.

"I love you, and I want to be with you and so," his tone turned jovial, "I think that there are going to have to be some rules."

She grinned.

"Like what?"

Will shook his head, taking a seat on the top step that wasn't covered in snow. Immediately, his hand reached out for her to sit beside him.

"I don't want to be the one making the rules, Em."

Emma grasped Will's hand tighter, bringing it to her lips as she kissed the skin softly.

"Let's make them together."

Her warm breath on his skin made him drowsy.

"Separate beds. I think we should sleep separately." He looked deep in concentration, and she loved him for it.

"That's a good one." Emma nodded and Will looked to her for a suggestion, a new rule that would guide them. She thought for a moment, considering her own words, "No touching."

"Really?" His eyes widened for the seven-thousandth time that night.

"Yeah." She nodded. "I think if we are going to take this seriously, then we shouldn't tease each other."

Will caught his bottom lip between two teeth.

"Kissing?" he asked with a smirk.

Emma shook her head.

"I don't think there should be any kissing, either."

"Or hand holding," he added, adjusting his beanie.

Emma squeezed Will's hand before placing it carefully back in his lap, the back of her hand accidentally brushing against the inside of his thigh, bare skin on rough denim. He squirmed, though she didn't notice.

Emma looked up at Will. "Okay. Is that all before we go in?"

"No." He blushed profusely.

Emma cocked her head her eyes lighting up curiously and a smirk resting on her lips, "What is it?"

He huffed, and then scowled and she quirked an eyebrow. "Umm...don't...ahh...just don't-

Emma chuckled. "What?"

His eyes were intense and her grin disappeared. "Don't look at me with that look."

Her breath caught in her chest, unnerving her as his lust filled eyes caused her to lick her lips. "What look?"

He whispered lowly, his voice rough in the cold. "The look that says you want me.

The pause was undeniable, sexy and wanton, filled with such love that she despised his-their- rules, for a brief second.

Her breath was sweet and hot on the shell of his ear, and it made him shiver all over; every inch of him. "Then I'll try not to look at you at all."

Emma stood up, extending a hand down to Will, which he gladly took, forgetting an important rule.

"C'mon. Let me show you our home."

There was a stove, a table, three chairs and a couch inside. That night, with a few exceptions to their grand, new list of rules, they spent the first night in their new home.

AN: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I was absolutely overwhelmed by the amount of messages I received and it was just so lovely to hear your thoughts on this story, because it really affects the direction of these characters. There are a lot of issues that still need to be discussed, and so I would like to get your opinion- would you rather the next few chapters be quite lengthy, or would you prefer double the amount of chapters with an average length? I would hate to drag this story out, but doing some planning today, I just think there are a few loose ends that need to be tied up over time. Thank you all for reading and responding!


	26. Happiness

Moving in took longer than they both expected. It was one and a half months before everything was only partially completed- passable to live in. Days were spent together and apart, from ordering furniture to scrubbing behind the bathroom vanity to attempting to assemble pieces of furniture.

They ate dinner at eleven o'clock after full days of renovating, and sometimes fell into showers hours after midnight. With Will at school during the day, Emma would find her energy at night with his company, telling stories about her life in New York and her holidays to California as they unpacked boxes.

They painted in horrible clothes that had known them when they were young. Will had offered Emma his t-shirt to wear to paint in and she had replied pompously, "I'm not the kind of girl who wears her boyfriends t-shirts." Will had laughed and asked with a grin, "What about to bed?" Emma had winked playfully and whispered, "Especially not to bed."

Over time, she stopped styling her hair. One morning, he found her in their kitchen, natural red ringlets framing her face. Suddenly, everything he had ever wanted was before his very eyes- and it was represented by something as ridiculous as the manner in which Emma styled her hair. Perhaps it was the way he looked at her, like he had seen a ghost standing by the fruit bowl, but in the months that followed, Emma rarely straightened her wild red curls.

Eventually, two months of just being together after the renovations where complete turned into three, and before they knew it, it was April and the snow had stopped.

During those long months after New Year, the air around them had changed. No longer were they suffocated by and constantly reminded of the sexual tension that surrounded them. They simply became themselves- Emma and Will, Will and Emma.

There were moments when they were reminded of why they were waiting and just what it was that they were waiting for. Her bra on the clothes line had caught his eye once or twice, her lacy panties hanging next to them as his boxers floated in the air on the opposite line.

While these things caught his attention and often rendered him speechless until she entered the room, he was distracted by things far greater. Her laughter from the next room when she was on the phone to her cousin Jane, red strands of hair on the shower wall, the scent that would travel in a cloud of steam from the bathroom after her evening bath, her sigh of satisfaction when she took off her boots each night after picking Will up from school.

They had decided to sell Tim's car to help with moving costs, and to share one car. Each day, Emma would drive Will to and from school. They would sing along with the radio and stop for coffee on days they had spare time to waste generously. More often than not, Will would begin to lean over, to thank Emma with a kiss, before he got out or after he got in. Each time, Emma blushed as though on cue, and pulled back, reminding him of the barriers they set for themselves. Each time his made the mistake, Will never apologised.

They cooked for each other. At least, Emma tried her best. They made it a rule to always set the table for an evening meal, but at breakfast, they always found themselves standing at opposite ends of the counter island, bowls of cereal or toast balancing in one hand in mid air as they hurried to make deadlines.

They had Christmas together, in their home and it was the only time they had really given in to the sexual tension.

"_Emma?"_

_Will's whisper was soft against her cheek, his breath ricocheting off her porcelain skin as he kneeled beside her bed. He breathed her name again, her lips twitching against the pillow as her eyelashes fluttered sweetly. Sunlight poured through her curtains, rays of light washing over her bed covers. The day was dull, though the sun always shone brighter in the master bedroom-Emma's bedroom- earlier in the day. _

_His knees pressed into the floorboards as his arms crossed on the edge of her mattress, goose bumps rising on his bare forearms. He watched her for a moment, relaxed in sleep, her body tiny on the edge of the queen-sized bed. _

"_Miss Pillsbury?" he whispered, his eyes sparkling with excitement._

"_Mhmm?" she hummed, her eyelids closed. _

"_It's Christmas..."_

_A grin slowly broke out on her lips, widening to match his smile. Her eyelids fluttered open, giving her a moment to appreciate the gorgeous man inches from her face with a mischievous grin gracing his features._

_Emma blinked a few times, registering Will's words. _

_Will's eyes were greener, brighter than they were months ago, and his gaze bore into hers happily- as though he were proud, content and accomplished, all at the same time. _

_As she propped herself up, her elbow digging into her pillow as she rested her jaw against her hand, Will moved closer, a flash of creamy satin catching his eye as the thick covers slipped down Emma's chest with her movement. _

_His face was close, too close, and in a moment of complete love and devotion, his lips were against hers, moving tenderly in the first kiss they had shared in a month. A month of long gazes and unspoken desires, of lonely nights and cold showers; a month of dreams and nightmares. _

_His bottom lip was firm between hers, her top lip warm between his. The kiss spoke volumes. I miss you, I love you, I want you. Their noses brushed, Emma's free hand snaking out beneath the covers to rest across Will's cheek, to keep him close. Their chests heaved as he pressed his lips harder against hers, the slight pressure making her already foggy mind completely dizzy._

_When he pulled away, he appeared triumphantly teasing, like he had a surprise waiting for Emma that she couldn't have until their next kiss. He was denying her something and she wanted it desperately. _

_Her features were unreadable as she stared deep into his eyes. Will swallowed; afraid he had done something wrong, until her fingers slipped over his cheek and below his chin, drawing him closer with a hooked finger. _

_As their lips moulded together, her tongue snuck between his lips, brushing his slightly. Her kiss was hotter and wetter and sexier than Will's, and it almost made his knees give way. _

_Emma's lips slid over his as she broke the kiss, the smug look that graced his features before completely erased. He looked like a stupid boy, his forearms dumbly crossed on the edge of the mattress as he tried to regain his senses. _

_Emma's fingernail beneath his unshaven jaw trailed seductively to the scar at the edge of his chin, making his Adam's apple bob in arousal. Her eyes were sweet, unlike the sexy Emma he had known months ago. She looked almost...inexperienced. And it made Will nervous. _

"_Merry Christmas," was Emma's whisper of glory, as the snow fell outside their home, a home which would see their family grow exponentially in the coming years. _

_And with a kiss from each other and a sweet Christmas wish, it was a day of exceptions._

_Wills hand was in Emma's as they descended the stairs. Their Christmas tree was beautiful, a perfect size for the high ceiling of their living room. Will already had the fireplace lit. Still, out of habit and modesty, she tightened her robe around her waist. _

_Beneath the Christmas tree were several parcels that had been there the night before, and two which Emma hadn't seen before. _

_Will unwrapped his presents first, gushing dramatically over the sweater vests and books Emma gave him. _

_When it was Emma's turn, she was shy, embarrassed as Will gauged her every expression with wide, contemplative eyes as she unwrapped a large canvas._

'_To Emma,_

_Merry Christmas._

_Love, Will.'_

_A painting. An abstract painting of what appeared to be a shack._

_Emma grinned, her eyebrows rising as she attempted to understand the art; and why the hell the love of her life would give her a painting of a dilapidated shack. _

"_You have no idea what it is, do you?"_

_She laughed uncomfortably, holding the canvas out in front of her to study it from a distance._

"_Well, it looks like a-"_

"_It's the Hyland Homestead from 'Under Your Palm'."_

_Emma's head snapped around, her eyes locking with Will's and then returning to view the art from a different perspective._

"_There's a woman who lives in North Dakota. She's an artist; a really good one." Emma appeared lost. "I wrote her a letter; sent her a copy of your book." He sat forward on the edge of the couch, watching her admire the painting, wringing his hands nervously. "When I asked her to paint the homestead, I had no idea it would turn out this beautiful."_

_Emma's eyes were glassy, her limbs weak and her heart throbbing as she whispered, "Thank you, Will." _

_The air was different that day; colder. Will felt needier, Emma felt lustful. Looks were shared, anticipation brewed, and they were reminded of every boundary they had set and broken in the last twelve hours. _

_Their parents arrived mid afternoon, and stayed until nine o'clock. They were both secretly thankful for the company of their parents. If the kitchen had been empty when Will's hand rested on her waist as he moved around opening cupboards, perhaps Emma would have pressed herself against him, given into the tension the joyous day brought. If his father hadn't sat between them at dinner, perhaps Will's fingers would have drifted across Emma's hot, pale thigh and beneath her green pencil skirt. _

_Emma watched Will's biceps flex beneath his red sweater as he tidied their kitchen on Christmas night, hours after his parents and her mother had left. Will stood beside Emma, drying dishes, his body heat radiating as his hips brushed hers. _

_As white ice fell outside the kitchen window, 'Let it Snow' played softly on the radio in the corner of the counter; softly, until Will joined in, earning a laugh from his redheaded roommate. _

_Before she knew it, the dry dishcloth was around her shoulders, and Will's arms were dragging her into him playfully. As they swayed in time with the music, their hips brushed together, her arms snaking around his neck as she laughed loudly. _

_They danced around the island counter in the centre of the kitchen, and before they could register how good it felt to be held by the other, to feel hands where they shouldn't have been, Will's lips were on Emma's roughly, and the laughter was gone. He lifted her onto the edge of the island counter, bunching her skirt up around her thighs, standing between her legs and raking his fingers through her soft, red hair. _

_His lips were on hers for a long time as her stocking clad legs dangled over the edge. _

_She felt thrilled and wild when he knelt down before her, his hands drifting swiftly up her thighs and causing her to clench her legs together. _

_Will's fingers showed expertise as they curled around the tops of the pantyhose at her waist, dragging them down her hot thighs, her warm calves and her cold feet._

_Will's knees pressed into the kitchen floorboards as they did that same morning at her bedside. _

_Emma's palms were flat on the bench behind her, her face flushed. _

"_Will?"_

_He mumbled a reply from between her legs and his breath was warm on the inside of her thigh, caressing her skin seductively as he allowed them a moment of adoration. She couldn't hear what he was saying, and before she could speak his name again, his voice was comprehensible. _

"_Merry Christmas, Em."_

_Will's mouth crashed against Emma's most intimate area, his tongue thrashing against her as she cried out in satisfaction. His lips were warm around her bundle of nerves, his entire mouth making love to her body with a perfection that would keep her up at night for the next four months. _

_Her hands were in his curls, holding him tightly against her, the thought to let him breathe not even crossing her mind as she squirmed and bucked and thrust against his scalding mouth. Eventually, the song that began as 'Let it Snow' concluded, slowed to an end, the opening notes of another filling Emma's ears as her thighs vibrated in pleasure and her naked behind pressed against the edge of the counter. _

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas,  
>Let your heart be light From now on,<br>our troubles will be out of sight_

_His tongue was passionate against her hot, wet flesh, gliding over her most sensitive and secret spots with uncontrollable fury. He loved the sounds she made- the whimpers and whispers and calls for more as her thighs tightened around his head and her back arched against the top of the counter._

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas,  
>Make the Yule-tide gay,<em>

_Her chest was heaving. She could feel the sweat between her breasts, her nipples hard and begging to be touched beneath the layers of her clothing. It felt so nice to be touched, to be pleasured so honestly._

_From now on,  
>our troubles will be miles away.<em>

_As her naked calves dangled off the edge of the island, she could feel it; the tightening of her insides in the delightful way that made her ache and ache and ache._

_Here we are as in olden days,  
>Happy golden days of yore.<em>

"_I...I love...you, Will."_

_Faithful friends who are dear to us  
>Gather near to us once more.<em>

_Her nails dug slightly into his scalp as the feeling overwhelmed her. She had waited and wanted for so long. _

_Through the years  
>We all will be together,<br>If the Fates allow_

_He could feel her body tensing beneath around the tip of his tongue, her hips trembling as release began to find her and her chest ignited in arousal and relief. _

_Hang a shining star upon the highest bough_

"_Will!"_

_And have yourself A merry little Christmas now. _

They spent New Year's Eve alone, together, before their fireplace. They drank, perhaps too much, and Emma wasn't even a drinker. Despite their intoxicated minds, they didn't spend the night sending looks across the couch or flirting from a distance. They spoke to each other honestly, about absolutely nothing of significance, comprehending each other's slurred speech perfectly.

Before midnight, they both sobered.

It was then, in his tired state, as she fought to keep sleep at a distance, that he presented her with the box that Jenny had opened her world to.

"I have something for you," Will mumbled, placing the heavy box on the couch next to Emma before moving to sit in front of the fireplace.

Emma lifted the lid slowly, reacquainting herself with the loose papers and magazines.

"I don't really know why I kept them. I guess I collected them for you- if you didn't have your own clippings." At that moment, Emma was the quietest she had been all night. Forever, she would keep the secret that she had met the box before. It wasn't a lie; it was decency.

"There are some copies of the writer's magazine and the journal you used to write for."

Emma nodded, her eyes peering down into the box as she remembered how hurt they had been, and how happy their lives were in the present.

"I love you." It was a gentle whisper which left her lips, almost too soft for Will to hear.

"I know."

They stood before their bedroom door that night, the large bed mocking their rules and teasing images that had them sweaty and pleasured. Will hadn't kissed Emma at the stroke of midnight, and she didn't know if she was meant to feel depressed or honoured.

Her eyes bore into his, sending messages she wished he would pick up. It's a holiday, a new year; I love you, come to our bed and make love to me.

If Will knew what she was thinking, if he got the hint, he didn't say anything. He only closed the door to the guest bedroom and whispered a goodnight. Emma slumped slightly against the door frame of the room which was meant to be theirs and went to bed alone, as she had every night since they had moved in.

Emma was grocery shopping one day in late March when Will decided to hang the artwork of Hyland Homestead above her bed- their bed. He was standing on her mattress, appreciating how straight he had hung the painting, when his eyes began to wander around her room, across her things.

She was neat, a tidy person.

It made him smile to see the notepads on her bedside table, ideas scribbled across the paper. She was writing again. She hadn't told him.

Make-up. Pens. Batteries. Did she need something fixed?

It made his heart skip a beat- to think that one day this would be their room. One day soon, he hoped. He just needed that moment, to know that they were really okay and not simply existing.

The wooden box was on the floor beneath the dressing table. Will had yet to complete the design of the large wardrobe in the master bedroom, and there were a few lonely cardboard boxes against the far wall. However, the wooden one was different.

Placed out of sight, Will knew what it was without lifting the lid.

Tim's ashes.

Suddenly, everything felt right in the world- they were right to wait, right to love each other from a distance. Emma wasn't ready yet.

Will was standing out on the point of the lake when Emma arrived home. Sensing something was wrong, she walked slowly out to meet him. The wind blew around her warmly in comparison to the last few weeks.

The trees were growing leaves. The lake was an untamed blue. Scarlet carnations grew in the bushes beside their home. If Emma knew the old white house by the lake looked as it did that late March day, she would have dreamt of it years ago.

"What are you doing?" Emma asked as she stepped beside Will, his hands fisted in his pockets as he gazed out across the lake.

"I'm just thinking."

"About?" Her tone was jovial, delightful and mesmerising.

"I was thinking...that this would be a nice spot to spread Tim's ashes." Emma's body froze, her heart slowing before it began to pound against her ribcage. "He could always be with you here."

There was a long pause as Emma interpreted Will's words, her eyes leaving his features and travelling across the pool of water.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you that I had them." Emma's voice was quite, her tone melancholy and ashamed. "His parents were dead long before I came along and it was just expected that I would be the one to take the...to take Tim's ashes."

Will took in her words and his limbs ached to hold her.

"You don't have to be sorry, Em." Her features looked pained, and so Will gazed at her fiercely until she returned her attention to his eyes. In the hazel depths, Emma found salvation. "I'm so happy he loved you."

"You are?"

His eyes widened, appearing almost injured. "Of course."

"I think I'm ready." Will looked at her curiously as her gaze fell over the edge of the lake, only feet away. "To spread Tim's ashes."

"There's no rush, Em."

"I think it's time." She nodded, assuring herself. "I know it's time."

Will's eyes spoke a multitude of verses, all pertaining to the one promise-"I'll be here for you when you're ready."

AN: I hope everyone appreciated the direction of this chapter. To the readers and writers who review, many thanks go out to you, as always.


	27. Passing

It was an average Thursday night. They had eaten dinner together, cleaned the kitchen, watched the news and Will had searched the net for set list ideas for Glee club as Emma showered. After ten o'clock, they had both decided on heading to bed, calling goodnight to each other after Will had checked the front door was locked and Emma checked the back door.

The pictures that lined the walls of the hallway depicted moments treasured to both of them, yet there were no pictures of them together lining the walls outside their bedrooms. Will's graduation photo, Emma's graduation photo. Twenty year old Emma in Rockefeller Center, fifteen year old Will on vacation in Indiana. The people in the frames of various ages and appearances basked in the dull yellow glow that travelled under Will and Emma's closed doors every night. It was sad, for these images of themselves behind glass to see the present Will and Emma unchanged and lonely.

Will skimmed over the sports section, an article about cheerleading coach Sue Sylvester and her championship win catching his attention. She seemed...interesting. Thank god she taught at Carmel. He turned the flimsy page, the obituaries typed in print before his eyes. He didn't know anyone recorded on that date, but he still read over them, almost expecting to see Tim's name in print-a reason for Emma's sadness weeks ago.

He was reminded of the day, not quite three weeks ago, when Emma had entered the kitchen later than she usually did. He found it odd when he woke that morning, that Emma's door was still shut and stem didn't cloud the bathroom mirror after her shower.

He began his Sunday morning routine, suspecting Emma was going to be just a little bit hung-over from their indulgence the night before as they shared hilarious, intimate stories while intoxicated on opposite ends of the couch, their toes brushing together romantically.

Will was sitting at the kitchen table in his pyjama's eating a bowl of brightly coloured children's cereal when Emma entered their kitchen, the box of ashes suddenly larger in her tiny hands than it had been when he found it beneath her dresser.

Will paused, the spoon halfway to his mouth, and he took her in, dressed in her pyjamas, robe, and rain boots. Her eyes were red rimmed and it was obvious she had been crying.

She smiled softly, a far off look on her face, and before he could mutter two words, she was out the back door behind him.

He watched from the kitchen window as she walked out to the point Will had stood at two days before and suggested it be the place to spread her dead lovers ashes when she was ready; if she was ready. He certainly didn't mean within forty-eight hours.

He watched her lift the mahogany lid and heartache settled over him before he trekked upstairs to dress.

He played no part in this. He barely knew anything about Tim. He was simply a ghost who kept Emma from Will, an angel who treated Emma with respect and provided her with boundaries from the grave.

She was gone for twenty minutes when Will checked the clock as he made his way down stairs.

An enormous wave of guilt flooded through his veins when he spied her alone outside, sitting by the edge of the lake in her black robe and rain boots.

His walk was slow, but when he reached her, her sobs were choked and childlike. The box was empty as it sat on its side in the mud before Emma, most probably having fallen from her grip.

Her forearms rested on her knees and she looked at her hands in shock horror.

"Oh, Emma."

She turned, noticing Will beside her for the first time, her cheeks tear stained and her eyes bloodshot.

"I just...I didn't realise that my hands would get dir- I don't want my hands to be grey anymore, Will."

He carried her inside, his forearm strong beneath her knees and her arms limp around his neck as she cried. The box lay forgotten by the very edge of the lake, as the grey clouds denied them sunlight.

Sunlight only belonged to future summer days when their young daughter would drool and gurgle as her older sister splashed in the lake.

He took her to the shower, and for the first time in months, he held her naked body to him as she cried in his arms, her feet bare on the cold white tiles.

When she was showered and dressed and her hands were no longer covered in ashes, they sat in the kitchen, sipping tea.

"I think that what bothers me the most is that I knew I wasn't supposed to be with him," Emma confessed, allowing herself the indulgence of discussing her devastation for the first time. "I was the only person he really had when he passed, and I wasn't the right person."

"He could have been alone." Will's gaze was intense, truthful and selfless. "You loved him; you gave him your time and care. The rest- it doesn't matter."

He took her hand not curled around her tea cup in between his and brought it to his lips.

For the next two hours, Emma told Will everything about her relationship with Tim. She told him about how they met at his advertising business that she was writing an article about for her freelance work. She told Will about the time they spent together in New York, in bohemian neighbourhoods and old bookshops. Emma described the way Tim looked at her from the back of the room at her first book reading at an independent, well-established bookstore in Greenwich Village.

She cried when she told him about the way Tim made her feel- safe and protected. Tears travelled over her cheeks without permission when she confided that once Tim became sick, two long years before he passed, their lovemaking had stopped completely. Will fingers twisted with hers when she professed her guilt for never making her father's funeral when she was holding Tim's lethargic body upright as he heaved over the toilet after another round of chemotherapy.

Will asked a few questions to help her along, but he never needed the answers.

At the end of her monologue, she whispered solemnly, her throat raw from crying by the lake, in the shower, and as Will poured them tea. "It's been a while, Will. For us, I mean. I just want you to know how thankful I am that you're taking this...our time apart...seriously."

He peered into his empty tea cup as he processed his emotions.

"I'm not just...keeping my distance, for you. I'm doing it for you and me, and both of us."

It rained that night, heavily. So heavy in fact, the next morning, the lake had risen to touch the trunk of the closest tree to the edge of the water. The box that had fallen in mud the day before as the saddened redhead cried in regret was gone when Will went to retrieve it before Emma had woken.

And so, there he was one night, glancing over the obituaries, when Emma's head popped through the opening of his door.

"Will?"

He was sitting up in bed, glasses on the rim of his nose and his shoulder blades pressing into the head board. His smile was soft, tired and she returned it. Will's features revealed his boredom, his secret gratitude for this unusual occurrence. They never ventured into the other's room.

"Hey."

"Do you mind if I come in?" Emma quizzed quietly as her eyes fell upon the newspaper. He closed the obituaries page with a smile, welcoming her into the room and farewelling the printed death notices.

He chuckled lowly and grinned. "Of course not."

When he patted the mattress next to him, she blushed slightly and sat down. It was so new, yet so familiar.

"I was wondering if you could read something for me."

His face lit up as he took her apprehensive expression in. She was adorable, dark frames, much like, Will's high on her nose, unlike his, her curly red hair tied high on her head.

"I'm thinking of writing a collection of short stories. I have so many ideas swimming around in my head and I don't have much patience at the moment to sit down and write a complete novel."

His eyes scanned over the front page.

"When did you start this, Em?"

"Uhh, about two weeks ago. It's only the first story, and it's only the first draft, so there will have to be rewrites and edits, but I just wanted to see what you thought of it."

He spied her from above his glasses, as a librarian would do; as seventeen year old Emma did in order to attain authority on her afternoon shift in the library as Will tutored middle school kids.

"I'm hardly a copy editor, Em."

She nodded, her eyes widening as her tongue peeked out to wet her lips.

"I know, I know. I just...I think this will mean more to you than anyone else."

He smiled unsurely, his t-shirt tightening across his chest as he sat up straighter.

"Wait, Will. Before you start reading, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

She paused for a moment and nodded to herself before the question slipped from her tongue so rapidly his head craned forward to decipher her words.

"Were you ever angry when you read the fiction that I wrote?"

He paused a moment.

"Yeah, sometimes." Her throat bobbed and he watched her swallow. "I think what angered me most was that you were always there in my life- magazine articles, local news, your first few works- and I played no part in yours." Her gaze fixed on his duvet, her fingertips tracing invisible patterns. "And then I started reading your romance novels, your later work, and the characters, they were us. Things were so plain and simple when you wrote about them, but they were never like that for us, were they?"

She was quick to answer.

"No. Never."

"Well, as long as I know that, I'll never be upset when I read something you write."

"You don't have to worry about that. I think my stories are about to change direction."

She smiled, relieved as her stare remained fixed on the bed, where it had fallen to as he answered her.

"I'll read it and tell you what I think in the morning."

She breathed a deep sigh and stood.

"Goodnight, then."

He grinned up at her as he held the papers tighter between his fingertips.

"Night, Em."

He read for twenty minutes before he came across it. He was in the middle of the story, wrapped up in the argument between a criminal lawyer and his brother, a New York cab driver, when the letter was placed between page thirty-eight and thirty-nine.

_Will,_

_It's almost been six months since that night at the inn. Six months. That's half a year. Half a year of gentle, accidental touches, and your husky voice in the morning before you shower. _

_I love you, and we're ready, Will. I can feel it, the way we are around each other. It's easy, simple, sweet. _

_What we're doing right now, it isn't enough. You let me grieve, and I've grieved. You've let go of what you had with Jenny, and she isn't a part of your life anymore. We've been apart, together, for the sake of our relationship, and we both now know that, yes, we work well together. _

_There's no point waiting anymore, Will. Now, we're just existing together, pretending that there isn't this feeling that we've been dancing around and suppressing for years. _

_I need you, and you need me. Sometimes, I hear you at night, and I want you to hear me. I know you do. I can read the embarrassment in your eyes the next morning, and I know I blush as we pretend what happened never did. But you wait up, listening for me. To the sounds of my satisfaction. It's silly isn't it? Almost as though we are afraid. We weren't afraid as children. We were wild and carefree. _

_I'm lonely at night. During the day, I'm complete, whether I'm inside writing alone, locked up in the study, or if we are cooking dinner together. At night, I can't sleep knowing that I could just have you if we were ready. And now, we are. _

_I know how you like to talk about things, but I don't want to discuss this letter. I just need to tell you what my heart and mind believes, because if we just let ourselves keep going the way we are, I might die. _

_I need you in my bed. I want you between my legs and I want your lips on mine. I love you, and I'm finally yours. _

_Marry me, please. _

_Your fiancée, _

_Emma._

Will's heart stopped and started again before he casually placed the letter on his nightstand, erased her loving words from his mind for the evening, and completed reading her short story.

They didn't mention a word about it the next day. He took the letter and hid it in his drawer, wishing he had an engagement ring to rest beside it.

When he found her the next morning on their wraparound porch drinking tea and reading _Rubyfruit Jungle_, he rested the thin stack of papers she had given him the night before beside her on the swing. Her eyes widened, searching for feedback, constructive criticism.

With a wink and a shrug, he mumbled "Keep writing", and left for work.

They were both thankful for the time they were forced to spend apart that day. When Will arrived home, the house was quiet. He found her writing in her room, engrossed in her work, and so he made his way back down the stairs and started dinner.

When they ate together that night, and while it wasn't exactly awkward, but they weren't their natural selves. Will spoke animatedly about the Glee club and Rachel Berry's most recent performance of _Big Spender_, replacing conversation that would usually revolve around childhood memories and dreams they both shared.

It was late when she was in the bathroom preparing for bed, and she honestly thought Will to be asleep.

The main bathroom was much larger than the en suite in the master bedroom, and it was rare that he heard the water running in the en suite. He figured she felt selfish using the private bathroom when he didn't have such luxuries in the guest room, after he had refused to let her reside in the smaller room.

His knock on the strong timber didn't startle her, but she whipped her head around towards the closed door.

"Are you ready for bed, Emma?"

She glanced down at her nightgown, the first she had worn since the weather began to warm up.

"Umm, in a minute." She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at herself in the mirror. He never came to the bathroom door when she was in there. It didn't sound like he wanted to use the bathroom.

He smiled when she stepped out, and his features appeared worried, almost as though he had a speech prepared for her. His gaze was intense and she struggled to find words of distraction as she closed the bathroom door behind herself.

"Will, we have to return those DVDs tomorrow. We already have a late fee." He nodded and she began walking towards her room.

It was the first time he had seen her in a nightgown in almost eleven years. She was petite in the light cream material that hung off her shoulders comfortably.

She was radiant, stopping before her door to offer him a whisper of goodnight as he continued down the hall.

Flicking her bedroom light on, she heard his soft call, a confession that reached her eyes as walls separated them. Before his door clicked shut, his voice carried down the hallway.

"I fall in love with you a little more each day."

Her heart thudded against her ribcage in excitement as she rested against her open door, waiting for him to come back to her, but he didn't.

She didn't toss and turn between her bedcovers as the cliché in her novels stated. Rather she sat on the edge of her made bed, her forearms shaking as her palms pressed into the edge of the mattress and her fingers curled around the side.

He was just there. A room away. Behind her cupboard, behind the wall, he was there, most probably in his bed thinking about the exact same thing.

He heard the door creak open, but light didn't seep into his room. The house was in darkness, and it comforted him more than it frightened him.

He couldn't see her, but it was obvious she was there, in his room, at the end of his bed. His heart rate quickened and he swallowed as his eyes tried to adjust to the darkness.

The mattress dipped a little next to his foot, and suddenly, it was too hot beneath the covers. He could feel the heat of her body as one of her hands rested on the mattress beside his hip. He sat up a little bit and he heard her take a deep breath.

She was crawling over him, her nightgown riding up her thighs as she breathed deeply, more nervous than she had ever been in her entire life.

This was the moment, and she could ruin everything, set them back weeks and months. But if it was so wrong, why did it feel so good?

Her bones hovered over his, her knee brushing the outside of his thigh, as her palms pressed into his pillow at the sides of his head. She could feel his breath on her cheek.

He reached out and she was closer than her dark silhouette detailed. His fingertips fell on the soft skin of her collarbone, and she shivered. She smelt like daisies and vanilla, and the coconut scent of her body lotion overpowered the comforting scent that was just Emma.

And Will realised something that made his breathing quicken and his mind blank-he's been trying to capture this moment his whole life.

AN: I'm excited! Thanks to everyone who reviews each week. I think there are going to be a few fics ending in the coming weeks and to those authors, I just want to let you know that you have all done a great job on your fabulous stories. I write because I love to read your work. Thanks for reading!


	28. Devotion

The first thing he realised was that her body felt warm, really warm.

His hands were hesitant, and as they rested on the sides of her ribs, the swell of her breasts hinting at his thumbs, it was almost as though he had no idea what to do with his talented fingers. And so, he rested them there as her breathing became heavy and her hips lowered to his. Slowly, gently, as though he would jump up and run at a single touch.

He could make her out in the darkness as she leant forward, her back arching seductively as she denied their chests the opportunity to meet.

Her breath was closer, causing his thighs to twitch beneath her.

She pressed her lips to his, and there were seconds, too much time to waste, before his lips opened hungrily and hers were slanted across his, her tongue against his as she moaned in delight.

Without thought, her body fell upon his and her wrists gave out from holding her up. Her fingers dragged across his pillow to rest at the sides of his head, tangling in his brown curls as her lower half pressed delightfully upon his. They were moulded together so tightly that she could feel his caged heartbeat pound against her nipple, teasing so innocently.

As her mouth slid across his and her tongue twisted with Will's warm flesh, her calf pressed against his and she squirmed subtly.

She pulled away from the kiss to gauge his reaction. He looked dazed. Drugged. Liberated.

With her fingers in his curls and her elbows pressed into the mattress at the sides of his neck, she dragged her body against his slowly.

Yes, he liked that.

She pushed herself down again, her thighs brushing his hipbones.

More. Yes. Ughhh.

Her knees dug into the bed at either side of his thighs, and the more she moved, the further his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Wide, hazel eyes, glistening with a satisfaction she hadn't seen in many years.

Love. Want. Relief.

His hands were still, motionless at her sides, holding her there, equally afraid that she would be the one to run.

As she rolled her hips again, feeling his hardened length between her legs, she guided his hand down and beneath her nightgown to rest on her behind.

She wasn't wearing panties.

She moaned as his fingers flexed against the curve of her behind, and as her lips found his again, his other hand was warming the naked flesh of her other cheek.

His palms were warm on her skin. When she pulled away from his lips to focus on the pressure between her thighs, his eyes were clouded with need.

Her growing, tender wetness pressed into the silk of his boxers

"Let's go to our bedroom," Will grunted.

He looked like he was on the brink of release, and Emma's eyes widened in shock that he could ache so desperately from the friction she initiated.

His fingers trailed into her hair, teasing the wisps at her temple.

"I want to make love to you in our bed."

Their bodies were cold as his hand took hers and he led her down the dark hall, always guiding; neither were puppets.

There was no hesitation in his step as Will made his way to the edge of the bed. He tugged on Emma's long fingers, and with a surety that was years old, aged and bored at this point, she stood between his legs.

She almost cried when his arms wrapped around her petite frame and his nose rested between her breasts.

She shivered when his trembling fingertips nervously worked the floral buttons on her nightgown.

She gasped when she was naked and the cream coloured nightgown was pooled at her feet.

Her hands were on his wrists for balance and comfort, and her light touch brought Will a confidence he had never completely regained after he discarded his virginity along with Emma's.

Her eyes slipped shut, providing Will with an unspoken permission as his kisses initiated upon her sternum and travelled south to tease her pale breasts.

Her beauty made him ache so deeply, he doubted that he would ever discover what it was he needed from her. Would the answer be in forever? They had certainly learnt that it wasn't in denial.

Will's hand was still on Emma's waist, a reminder – I'm here, I love you, I'm yours.

His wet, craving lips wrapped around one pink nipple, his tongue holding back from licking the bud in his mouth.

She moaned, he sucked, they both raked at the other with their strong fingers.

"Will..."

His hand that wasn't clawing into the flesh of her hip was making its way down the other side of her body, reacquainting himself with her divine form.

The moonlight glazed over Emma's body through her open curtains. She was so naked and hot.

As Will's palm warmed over the plane of Emma's thigh, his fingers reached between her legs. The moisture was warm, and he couldn't help but to be surprised. He hadn't even reached her centre. His boxers _were_ slightly damp, but Will had though that to be the result of his own arousal from her writhing above him. Apparently, it was the outcome of her own frantic desire before anything had really begun.

She _did_ need this.

With that thought, his hand cupped her mound gently.

A strangled noise left her lips without permission, and she fought to keep her innermost needs repressed. It was only the warmth of his hand; she was ashamed of her desperation.

Will's fingers traced the line between the lips of her folds and he could feel his own arousal from her ministrations earlier pressing against his boxers.

"Oh, Emma..."

She was _so_ wet.

"I know," she moaned, her cheeks flushing madly as his hand rocked back and forth.

Harder, faster.

She bucked her hips in the air as she stood before him, before pulling back as she realised just what was going on.

His features were mature, painted with mystic gloom, and suddenly, she had to have him.

Her hands were on his undershirt and she mumbled for him to take it off as her fingernails teased the skin beneath.

The material was gone in an instant as Emma promised his sensitive upper torso her attention.

She kissed his chest softly, keeping with the pace and gentleness Will had set for them the moment she had rested upon him in the guest room.

As her lips travelled over his defined muscles, her palms pressed at his waist. He scooted across the bed as she knelt between his knees on the mattress, showing her appreciation with her tongue for all of his hours spent at the gym.

He tugged at the covers and her lips closed around his nipple.

He threw the covers to the end of the bed and her teeth scrapped over his taut skin.

She sucked at his nipple and he growled as he pulled her down, her shoulder blades pressing into the mattress and her red curls tickling the headboard.

Emma was naked as his boxers tented profusely.

She wasn't satisfied, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she tugged at the waistband. In a flash, they were gone.

Will groaned as Emma's hand ran along his length. Her fingers were tiny and long and after imagining her touch for so many years, his body almost gave way. Where was there to fall? Upon Emma's naked chest, into her loving hold? He could deal with the consequences of failure.

She played his length like an expert, yet her eyes revealed inexperience like the first time she tried this touch.

"Em, we need a-"

Her other hand curled around his waist, his abdominal muscles scraping against her tingling stomach as she stroked him with her fingertips.

"No, its okay, Will."

He looked sceptical, his eyes filled with trepidation.

"What if...something happens?" he questioned, oblivious to where they were in their relationship. What _were_ they ready for exactly?

She rolled her eyes and a smirk tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Then you marry me tomorrow morning so we won't get dirty looks when we're shopping for diapers."

Her grin juxtaposed his serious, intense stare as he waited for the words to mould in his heart and mind.

"I'd marry you right now."

His lips were on hers roughly, her fingers tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck.

His arousal pressed against her stomach, and then lowered. He could feel her heat teasing his arousal, while Emma anticipated fullness.

"Is this okay?" he chocked.

"Mhhmmm..." she held her breath, her eyes shut in complete arousal.

She waited to feel his hardness driving into her, no doubt slowly. That was Will's intention. Though, she couldn't deny the fact that she was secretly thrilled at the prospect of slow love making.

"Emma?"

Her eyes popped open.

"What are you thinking about?" His hand glided over the soft skin of her stomach, causing the muscles to contract as his hand drifted lovingly.

She blushed, inching closer, and his tip pressed against her in the most perfect position.

"You."

He waited, needing more, not comprehending her emotions and thoughts.

Her palm rested at the edge of his jaw, caressing the slight stubble she found there as her thumb swayed across his cheekbone.

"How you're going to make me feel." Her hands travelled to his chest, a palm immediately resting over his heart. "You make me feel so loved." Her fingertips traced his nipples as his head lowered to her shoulder.

"This is going to feel incredible." Her words were spoken louder, coaxing a groan from him, and ever so slowly, he pushed into her.

The sensation was completely different for both of them, though equally as cherished. Emma surrounded Will tightly, much to his satisfaction, while she felt pleasantly stretched, so much so that she found herself wondering why it never hurt past times when Will was inside of her before she could count to three. Or Tim. Or the lame IT specialist she dated in her late teens.

Will held himself above her, his eyes meeting hers as he pulled away from the safety that the curve of her neck offered.

No barriers. Will and Emma. Skin against skin.

His lips fell open and when her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realised that he looked like a boy who was about to lose control; on the verge of a climax so destructive and selfish. However, as Will stayed motionless between her legs, his member was caressed by the warmth of her walls tensing slightly and then relaxing.

"Does it feel alright like this?" she queried, tensing her walls purposefully to prepare them, remind them. They were together.

He grunted and his forehead fell against her naked, freckled shoulder. Her naivety was like a bolt of arousal to the place where their bodies were connected.

Immediately her thighs tightened around his and she thrust without thought.

He rapidly located his mind and stilled his first thrust.

"Relax, Em."

She pushed against him. Her hands, which had madly been travelling all over his body, peacefully cupping the back of his neck.

"I've done this before, Will."

"No, I don't think you have."

He could feel the covers bunched around his feet as goose bumps erupted upon her skin. Deciding they were too exposed to the entertainment of old ghosts, he pulled the duvet up to his waist.

There. This was how he had imagined making love to Emma would be. Granted, he had envisioned a family of their own by this point in their lives, but with Emma's attitude, he wasn't too worried about timing.

She sighed as his hand travelled up over her thigh and to her hip.

Her eyes locked with his.

"Relax." His breath was minty on her face and she realised that he had been brushing his teeth in the bathroom before her. He _had_ been waiting for her to come out simply to confess his secret.

At the realisation, her legs dropped dramatically on either side of his, dead weights upon the mattress as she gave in.

He drew out of her slowly, his hips retreating from hers, and she watched his expression. Shock. Relief. Pleasure. His eyelids flickered shut as he returned to the warmth her body provided, and Emma mumbled incoherently.

It was Will's slow, languid, powerless thrusts that drew Emma's hips from the mattress in appreciation. She sensed the rhythm and Will's efforts to keep their lovemaking almost without pace.

His eyes confessed the adoration he had for the serenity they had finally discovered.

"It feels good," Emma noted, her tone even as he pushed into her and stilled for a moment.

A grin of triumph diverted her attention from his other, equally beautiful features.

"Yeah?"

She bent her knees slowly. "Mmhmm." A deeper thrust. Magic. Delightful. "It feels so good."

He hummed his approval as he writhed against her slowly. Painfully slow.

He grasped her hands in his, resting them above her head on the pillow as he moved.

Their eyes were locked as he squeezed her fingers softly. His palms weren't sweaty like they usually were when they were together intimately. They were warm in Emma's, but due to their lack of movement, there was no dampness. Not yet, anyway.

Their bodies were calm as he moved inside of her. Until she tested his reaction to her fingernails on his naked behind.

Will pulled away from Emma, slipping completely from the warm confines of her body as he kissed her breasts.

He had never been so hard in all of his life.

"What are you doing?" Emma shrieked, feeling the fullness leave her body swiftly.

His tongue swirled around her bellybutton, tasting her pale smoothness.

"I want this to last."

She groaned, whimpering his name as she tried to strong coherent words together.

His lips were so warm. And that _tongue_.

"It will."Her abdominal muscles trembled beneath his touch. "Just, please...come back to me."

Will kissed his way down Emma's body, over soft skin that made his eyes water, finding his place between her legs. Her flesh was wet, naked, waiting for Will to just _touch_ it. He breathed deeply in nervousness, his exhaled breath causing her core to pulse hotly. Mustering up the courage he had almost forgotten, his tongue touched her softly, reconnecting himself with what she liked and what made _that_ sound escape from her throat. Swiping at the moisture that he found upon her sensitive skin, she writhed upon the bed, her behind grinding deeply into the mattress as his tongue satisfied her. She tasted like honey and salty rain. As he licked her to oblivion, he remembered how her lips tasted upon his, as rain poured over their bodies one afternoon when they secretly rested on the grass on the McKinley High field, a rainy summer Sunday in the nineties.

When his lips rose to cover her nub, he warmed her body and soul, causing her mind to blank. And, finally, after a timely moment of his lips surrounding her tiny button, his tongue peaked out softly rest upon her core of nerves between his lips. Pink skin against rosy flesh. Warmth against heat. Will's tongue against Emma's nub. He felt her velvet skin beneath his sensitive tongue. The texture was softer than her breasts, smoother than the skin of her abdomen, more delicate than the shell of her ear.

She leaned up on her elbows to watch him, one hand reaching out to rake through the curls on the top of his head.

_God_. She was close. If he just kept doing _that_.

His neck craned up, his proud gaze meeting Emma's wide-eyed stare.

With a boyish grin he confessed, "I love doing this to you."

Her head fell back against the pillow as she groaned, aroused to a definite peak. He covered her body with his as he crawled between her splayed legs and his features froze over with seriousness as he waited for her eyes to open.

Eventually, they did, and as he held her stare, intense and pure, he fell into her again, her warm body surrounding his as his arousal throbbed inside of her.

Stillness.

"Will, I need you to move."

Emma squirmed, rolling her hips clockwise around his, knowing that he would still her wild thrusts in an instant.

His fingertips fell lightly on her hipbones.

"Shhh". Will's hands were warm on Emma's curves, resting against her skin and immediately slowing her desperation with the softest of touches.

Her moist eyes glistened, her body consumed by the goodness of arousal and the unfamiliarity of making love in such a delicate way. "Please..." She slowed the movement of her hips completely, and he taught her what he wanted. What they needed. What they had been waiting for their whole lives.

"Not yet, baby."

She felt amazing. The more she moved, the harder it was for him to hold on. The more she begged, the worse he felt the delightfully painful pulse in his length. Her voice was sweet and sassy, and with the permission her eyes desperately handed him in their darkness, he just wanted to thrust harder and faster. His body ached with the promise of release, but they had waited so long; they had the rest of their lives for reckless sex.

Her whimpers were soft as he whispered her name; chanted as though on the brink of something elusive.

She peered up at him, his body arched like a merman over hers. His arms were long and beautiful, his palms pressing into the mattress beside her shoulders.

"Don't finish without me," she whispered almost inaudibly, ashamed of her selfishness. Will wondered for a moment. _How many inconsiderate lovers had she shared herself with? _After a moment, Will understood. He was her first.

Watching his expression of satisfaction, she mumbled the pessimistic insecurity again, and he lowered his lips to press a kiss to her damp forehead.

"Emma, stop talking."

Her lips slipped shut and her eye lids closed as she enjoyed the rhythm.

She bent her leg slightly. _Ohhhh_. Lifted the other to rest on Will's calf. _Fuck._

It felt like they had been touching each other for hours. And they had.

Emma tightened her insides in pleasure and Will growled, his lips falling to rest by her ear. He was still holding himself above her. _How did he find the strength?_ Her limbs were focused solely on one thing – release.

His whisper was low against the shell of her ear, with the authority of a respected teacher, as he demanded her to come.

"I can't..." she cried loudly in frustration.

They were barely moving.

He pressed the bones of his lower torso harder against hers to hit her sweet nub, grinding their bodies together subtly.

"Yes, you can," Will assured Emma, her red ringlets cascading over their pillow as she tossed her head around wildly with more desperation than he allowed her to move her hips with.

She pressed harder against him with a whimper as he maintained a devilishly slow pace.

She begged with her eyes.

Will reached between them, his fingers drifting below her abdomen in search of the spot that would send her reeling.

Her eyes widened when he touched her, his gaze speaking to her, _Let me help you out._

"I love you, Emma."

He leant down and pressed his lips to her cheek, his tongue peaking out to taste the line of her jaw.

"I've waited so long to touch you like this."

His finger was rotating softly on her swollen peak as he continued with languid thrusts.

"Oh, Will..."

His lips were on her nipple.

"I've...I've dreamt about this for so long, Em."

His eyes locked with hers as his words ceased.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into her. Her insides burned delightfully.

It was almost over and yet, only just beginning.

"You...Ohh God...Will...you- you make me so happy..."

She cried out loudly, and he licked his lips as she began to convulse beneath him.

He slowly thrust deep within her, the pressure she was eliciting too much to deal with on his own as he watched her.

Emma was the epitome of lovely.

Her insides throbbed around him, drawing his release out as his lips fell open in shock and his body arched. His thrusts stopped as her eyes widened. This was the moment they had craved since childhood.

Love.

It was pounding. They were almost deafened by the tremor that ran through their bodies.

Emma's orgasm began before and ended after Will's. Her toes curled, her body tightened, and her nipples pressed against Will's torso. They warmed each other completely.

Will fell upon Emma's chest as her palms flattened across his back. He was sweaty, liberated, changed.

His hand rested between their bodies, his fingertips pressing into her flesh.

He didn't slip out of her, and she fell asleep before he could moon over the fact that they had made love for hours, fulfilled each other's dreams.

It wasn't sex, and they had finally learned the art of respect, after travelling the road of denial meeting loss at an intersection.

What they never knew was that respect had clouded their eyes for many years, reality bleached by lust, adoration and fear. From childhood to maturity, they finally understood.

For Will and Emma, life now provided a simplicity that drowned them in flawless imperfection.

Just Like That.

AN: So we have reached the end. I am so thankful to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, and to all of the other readers, thank you for spending the time to read 'Just Like That'. I've met so many wonderful writers and readers while writing this fic, and to you lovely individuals, the biggest thank you goes to you.

There will be an epilogue out shortly, and then I will be working on a new fic. I'll be sticking to canon with the next fic, so it will be interesting to see where that goes.

Thank you, and good night!


	29. Epilogue

_1__st__ February, 2017_

Emma bounced her youngest daughter in her arms as Tyler laughed from her grandmother's living room. The TV was louder than usual as cartoons blared for three year old Tyler's amusement.

Will's mother stepped into her kitchen and sat beside Emma at the kitchen table, a gurgling Remy making her presence known.

"I don't know what you want to do with them, but I have another box full of photos from when Will got that camera for his seventeenth."

Emma's mouth gaped as she started at the large shoebox in her mother-in-law's hands.

"You've got to be kidding me. I sorted out all of the photos Mom gave me only three months ago, just before Remy was born. They're in order and now you hand me more?" Emma laughed with a huff and readjusted Remy as her tiny fists swung at Emma's chest.

The older Mrs Schuester opened the lid, shuffling through the mixed images.

"There are quite a few of you and Will, but most are just of you that he took. He would have been a wonderful photographer." Emma nodded, her fingers sweeping over Remy's short brown curls. "Look at this one of you!"

Mrs Schuester handed Emma the small photograph. In the colour photo, Emma was standing in the middle of Main Street, mid step. She remembered Will running before her that summer day, walking backwards as she blushed and he snapped away. It was a well preserved image, the laughing girl in the photo almost as beautifully visible as the mother and wife holding the photo. Overcome by the beauty with which the photo had aged, Emma felt the need to write. An essay, a short story, anything.

Tyler crept noticeably behind her grandmother before the three year old threw her arms around Will's mother.

"You're a sneaky little thing, you are!" Mrs Schuester grinned as she pulled her redheaded granddaughter in for a cuddle, the little girl's snow jacket almost bigger than her small body.

Tyler watched as baby Remy attempted to snatch the photograph from her mother's grasp. Tyler moved to stand next to her seated mother and peered over her arm to see what her mother was looking at.

"Who's that, Mommy?"

_July 31, 2029 _

It was a cool Sunday afternoon, the eve of her sixteenth birthday, when Tyler found herself on her grandmother's porch handing a screwdriver to her father as she peered through the Daniel's kitchen window.

It was a few weeks earlier when George Daniels decided to renovate the front steps of Emma Schuester's childhood home, causing a mess that had landed Will the job of tidying up the entire renovation. Tyler adored her grandmother's boyfriend, but sometimes he could be more destructive than he could be hilarious, a nuisance for Will.

George, a seventy-six year old English professor, lived next door to Tyler's grandmother, and he was one of the kindest men Tyler had ever met. Between his jokes about Tyler's unruly red curls and his infatuation with classic literature, Tyler had found herself an educated friend who had taught her more than she had learnt in school over the last three years. It was a pity he wasn't handy with a toolbox.

It was a month prior that George had found himself with another young friend- his granddaughter. Denver Daniels was seventeen, and Tyler heard through the grapevine her grandmother picked at, that Denver was living with her grandfather while her parent's divorce settled. Tyler had asked her grandmother why she didn't hear the news through George himself, and widowed Mrs Pillsbury had avoided the question, noting how funny her partner George was. Mrs Pillsbury had failed to mention that he was a closed book like herself, and Tyler contemplated how hard it must have been for her own mother to share things with her grandmother when she was young Emma Pillsbury. Then again, her mother was quite boring. She wouldn't have had any secrets to keep.

Denver had enrolled as a senior at William McKinley, and Tyler often caught sight of the blonde at her locker, or stepping into her father's Spanish class.

And so, on the Sunday before her Sweet Sixteenth, Tyler spied Denver arched over a textbook at her grandfather's kitchen table.

"Do you think she's pretty Dad?" Tyler whispered as her eyes remained locked on her grandmother's lover's granddaughter next door.

"Who?" Will muttered, his curly head bent low as he grumbled over the destruction George, the elderly scholar, had caused.

"Denver Daniels."

Will looked up from the step and Tyler turned her head to meet her father's gaze.

"Not as pretty as you." Will smiled, turning his attention back to the second step.

Tyler slowly turned her head, subtly, not wanting the girl next door to find her staring. "I think she's very pretty."

Will was as distracted as Tyler was, yet with a different focus.

"Tyler, Can you hand me a few extra nails?"

Tyler bent down, sitting on the top step on the opposite side that Will was working. She handed the nails to her father, her eyes trained on the girl next door.

"Why don't you invite her to your party?" Will asked as he measured the distance between nails.

Tyler shook her head. "No way." Her brow creased in contemplation. "She's odd."

Will chuckled, and Tyler's lips pouted in a grin before he spoke.

"You're odd."

Tyler sighed, listening to the laughter of her grandmother and George from inside the Pillsbury home. Denver was all alone.

"Grandma says she doesn't have many friends," Will commented seriously, his whisper low, cautious of Denver or her grandfather hearing. "Maybe she would really like it if you invited her."

Tyler swallowed.

"She's older, Dad. She won't want to hang around with people my age."

"She isn't that much older," Will argued softly, trying to place which of his many classes Denver Daniels was in. _Ahh_, he remembered. Fourth period, Spanish two, high marks.

As Tyler considered her father's words, the young blonde next door looked up from her book, her shoulders slumping before she cast her gaze across the kitchen and out the window, meeting Tyler's stare.

Tyler blushed furiously, as her mother did when she was young and Will would graze his fingertips across her neck. Tyler's gaze fell to between her knees and she licked her lips in nervousness as Will watched the wordless encounter from the corner of his eye.

Tyler stood up from the top step with a jump, her back to Denver who peered at Tyler and her father curiously.

"I'm going to ask George if he's finished with my copy of '_To Kill a Mockingbird'_." Tyler stated. "He's had it so long that sometimes I wonder if he can actually read."

"Losing you to another man, am I?" Will queried with a chuckle.

"Please, Dad. You're the only man I'll ever love." Tyler grinned as the screen door closed behind her.

As Will turned and caught sight of the young blonde in the window watching after Tyler, he knew his daughter's jovial words were the truth before she ever did.

_11__th__ March 2022_

The two red heads drove home late one Tuesday night after eight year old Tyler's ballet class.

"Mom, I think I want to be a cheerleader when I grow up."

Emma blinked perplexedly at the road ahead, the words settling in the pit of her stomach.

"You want to be a cheerleader?"

Tyler grinned widely, prouder of her decision than she had been with her ideas of becoming a doctor, a tennis coach and a ballerina. "Yep."

"Uhuh..." Emma trailed off, thankful for the green light that allowed her to continue. It had been a long day of tantrums and copy editing and the kitchen roof leaking. "And ummm...why is that, Tyler?"

"Because they're beautiful."

Emma sighed.

"Everyone is beautiful, Tyler. You don't have to be a cheerleader to be beautiful. You're a lovely little girl, baby."

Tyler shook her head, her face scrunched in frustration at Emma's misunderstanding.

"I know, I just want to be their friend."

"Well you'll have to wait until middle school to try out." Emma steered her way down their driveway, the light on the porch guiding their way home to their family.

"I should start practicing," Tyler mumbled to herself as she made her way up the front steps. "Mommy will you help me practice to be a cheerleader?" she asked with a serious tone, as though she were bestowing upon her mother the greatest role to mankind.

"First, you have to finish your homework."

Tyler huffed at the small responsibility that plagued her childhood.

"Mom, can I just read tonight?" Tyler asked as Emma unlocked the front door.

"Sure, honey."

The heat from the fireplace warmed Emma's frozen nose as she stepped into the living room.

As her redheaded daughter bounced loudly up the stairs, Will's eyelids fluttered open as he tried to gain his bearings.

Living room. Eight o'clock. Remy curled into his chest.

The tiny brunette was small for her age, much more fragile than her older sister had been at the age of five, yet she was louder, wilder, and more like her father. This trait, a loved likeness, was perhaps the result of her illness.

Three weeks before, Liam, Will's ten year old nephew, who Will's mother perceived as the devil's spawn, had dared his five year old cousin Remy to swim across the lake.

Emma had never run so fast in her thirty nine years, and she had never felt as relieved as she ran into the lake after her young, carefree little girl and scooped her up in her arms.

Remy could swim when she was three, Will and Emma had made sure of that. With the lake so close to their home, it was a major risk factor, and so their daughters grew fins before they knew the alphabet. But it was March, and while the lake had defrosted, Remy's tiny body didn't stand the cold very well at all. In fact, it had her in hospital for three and a half days with a minor case of pneumonia.

Will blinked twice and smiled at his wife.

"I'm going to start dinner and then-"

"Daddy..."

Remy's fists latched onto Will's sweater in her sleep, her head repositioning itself on his shoulder.

Emma fought off tears as she thought about everything she could have lost if she had left Lima.

Upstairs, Tyler practiced her high kicks which weren't very high at all.

_July 13__th__ 2012_

They were married by the lake in summer, beneath the tree that shared secrets only Emma and Will knew of and had taken part in conjuring.

It was a small wedding which was attended by only their closest friends and family. Jenny and Jared had since relocated to Idaho, so it wasn't awkward or cruel when it came time to mail out invitations.

They spent their first night as a married couple in their bed, and the next morning they were in a cab headed for Toledo Express Airport with their flight for Santa Barbara departing at three that afternoon.

Will hated flying with an immense passion, and from the distraught look on his face at takeoff, Emma doubted that he would be in any state to fulfil her honeymoon fantasies within the week.

She was sorely mistaken. Literally.

_February 8__th__, 2027_

When Will left for the weekend conference, Emma thought she would be allowed to appreciate the large bed all to herself, which she hadn't had a chance to do in a long time. Too long. She loved Will, but she also loved her personal space.

Instead of miles of mattress to Emma's disposal, ten year old Remy's foot was sticking into the back of Emma's ribcage and it was only six o'clock on a Sunday morning. What on earth made this child so restless?

Emma was awake when Tyler pushed her door open at five past six that morning, smiling widely at her mother. Taking a seat on the end of the bed, where Remy had tugged the duvet out of place sometime during the night, Tyler yawned. Always the early riser, just like her mother.

As Emma closed her eyes in tiredness and Remy's arm stretched out to rest above Emma's head, Tyler examined the painting hanging above her parent's bed.

"Mom, why did dad get a painting of an old cabin made for you?" the thirteen year old asked in a whisper, careful not to wake her younger sister.

Emma giggled quietly, remembering her similar reaction to the art.

"It's from a novel I wrote."

"Can I read it?"

Emma shook her head, her eyes opening to meet her daughter's.

"When you're older, Tyler."

Little did Emma know, thirteen year old Tyler had already read '_Under Her Palm'. _Twice.

_August 1__st__, 2024_

Tyler had decided that, for her eleventh birthday, she would like to have camping party. And so, as Tyler opened her birthday presents and Remy gushed over all of the objects and clothes she could share when she was older, Will erected the Schuester family tent in their backyard.

It took three hours and twenty minutes for Will to hammer the last peg into the earth and he breathed in the fresh Ohioan air in relief.

He stepped inside the tent, admiring his handiwork, before he rested on the floor of the tent in exhaustion. He was only forty-three. It shouldn't be this hard.

In less than thirty minutes, his house would be swarmed with loud, overbearing eleven year olds.

"Hey."

Emma's voice was soft as she stepped inside the tent, a grin plastered across her perfectly sculpted lips.

Will rested up on his elbows, the floor of the tent creasing beneath his bare skin.

"It's hot in here," Emma commented, finding her place next to Will as they both lay staring up at the roof.

"It is now that you're here..."

Emma giggled, the pleats of her summer dress riding up her thighs as she turned to face Will, her legs curling beneath her.

Will's smile was faint and, with a writers mind, she searched for a word that best described his appearance.

Pleased. Will looked pleased, content and thankful.

"You've done a wonderful job, Will."

Her gaze sustained the compliment, including every wonderful thing he had ever accomplished in their time together. _You're a wonderful father, an adoring husband, my special love._

They kissed inside the tent for a long while, something they hadn't done since they were young. Will's fingers found his wife's breast beneath her dress, resting upon her womanly curves as his tongue twisted with Emma's. Long drawn out licks and flicks of their tongues warmed their hearts as the trappment of each other's lips left their flesh swollen when the first guest arrived, a loud, disapproving cough pulling them apart.

Sally Dollanger, the parent of Tyler's best friend Amy, was the one to find Will's tongue down Emma's throat and his hand in her bra after little Remy had informed the woman mommy and daddy were playing hide and seek and she hadn't checked outside. Sally Dollanger was also the reverend's wife.

Emma Pillsbury and her erotic novels was the topic of mortified discussion at women's bible study the next Tuesday night.

_November 25__th__, 2019_

"Mommy, I'm gonna laugh!"

Emma placed her long index finger across the six year old's tiny lips as she pouted with a grin.

"If we aren't quiet, Remy will hear us."

As tiny Tyler sunk her head into her shoulders in an effort not to be seen behind the tall couch, the redheads heard Will's voice trail from around the corner. "I wonder where Mommy and Tyler are, Rem? Do you know how old you are today, baby girl? You are three!"

Emma grinned at her eldest child. Tyler's face was scrunched up in her efforts not to laugh.

When Remy's miniature feet padded into the living room, Tyler jumped wildly over the couch.

"Happy Birthday, Remy!"

Remy rubbed the back of her wrist across her left eye, fighting off sleep as he energetic sister bounded around the living room.

Will laughed as he picked his youngest daughter up from where she stood at his feet and Emma made her way over to the two as Tyler enthusiastically enquired, "When can I open the presents?"

Emma gushed as she kissed Remy's brown curls, her eyes rising to meet Will's as he gazed at Emma in awe.

_I love you. I wouldn't change a thing._

_October 27__th__, 2018_

"You look like you're enjoying that."

Emma sighed as Will perched himself on the edge of the tub. It was almost midnight, and getting two kids under the age of five to sleep before eight o'clock was a blessing that Emma had appreciated that evening.

With free time to spare, she'd baked cupcakes for preschool the next day, cleaned the girl's bathroom, finished her most difficult chapter yet, and finally stepped into a bath. Her body ached.

Will watched his wife, her long red curls falling over the lip of porcelain that her neck rested upon. She had aged beautifully.

He hated to admit it, but he appreciated her physical appearance more than he should have. She was gorgeous, the most stunning woman in Allen County. When Emma had walked with Will down Main Street that evening with their girls steeping beside them, the town alive with local festivities, people had turned to look at them. At her.

The water reached the tops of Emma's creamy breasts, larger than they had been before the girls were born. The water appeared hot, yet there was no steam. Her legs were long. Her stomach was flat. Her face was flushed.

Emma's eyelids fluttered open, taking in the sight of Will, fully clothed and sitting on the rim of the bathtub enjoying his wife's nakedness.

With an intense stare, she dared him to undress, to share this special time with her. God knows when they would get a break again.

She watched him rid himself of his clothes with a lustful gaze he had missed.

He settled into the tub and Emma smirked, more than noticing his prominent arousal.

It was smooth, the way she crawled into his lap, straddling Will and guiding his length into body.

Their eyes locked as she raised her hips and fell slowly back into the water.

Yes, the water was sizzling.

_July 2__nd__, 2013_

Eight months pregnant and it was the beginning of July. Emma was sweaty, uncomfortable, and horny. Their air conditioner had stopped working before lunch, for the first time in her life she was the size of a watermelon, and Will still wasn't home.

The humidity toyed with Emma's mind more than her physical being. Taunting, teasing. As droplets of sweat fell between her breasts they rejoiced, '_You can't stop us. Change is here_.'

Emma was crying when Will stepped through the door after five o'clock. He pulled at the collar of his shirt, undoing the first three buttons as he looked for the source of her irritation.

Crying had been nonstop lately, and sometimes he couldn't help but to grin when she began. Last week it had been when they went to the movies and their popcorn had been unsalted. Before Will could stand up to take it back to be salted, tears were streaming down her face. She cried for the entire duration of the romantic comedy and it was an effort for Will to keep a straight face.

"Oh, Emma."

As tears streamed over her freckled cheeks, her eyes were wide, yet irritated. Not an ounce of depression. She appeared purely confused.

She whimpered like a child. "Why won't you have sex with me?"

Will knelt before Emma, the pads of his thumbs drying her tears as he shook his head.

"Emma, we had sex last night..."

Her features contorted as her eyes pooled with tears.

"No, it was three days ago, Will!" Emma professed in utter disappointment and arousal.

"Emma, three days isn't a long time, in fact-"

"It's because I'm fat, isn't it?"

Will shook his head, sighing as his hands fell to her swollen abdomen. Their baby was kicking. "You're not fat, you're pregnant." Emma stopped crying for a moment as she considered his words. His touch felt comforting, relaxing her tired body.

And then Will opened his mouth.

"Why is it so hot in here?"

She began to cry again, fat tears rolling tiredly down her cheeks as she explained how the air conditioner had squeaked and groaned and then completely shut down.

"Come on."

Will reached his hand out and led Emma outside. The sun was setting, its burning rays lightly stinging Emma's pale skin as the tears continued.

Will's fingers intertwined with Emma's as they crossed the driveway to the lake, his knuckles brushing the gold wedding ring as Emma sobbed.

Emma let Will undress her as the orange glow lit her red hair and her round stomach, and then she watched him undress himself. They hadn't done this since they were first married.

Will took Emma's hand again and guided her into the water, his sweaty palm on the small of Emma's back as she waddled into the lake.

As the cool water rose to Emma's breasts, she was relieved of the weight of their child. Her body felt lighter, calmer in the water. She couldn't even remember why she'd been crying.

"Better?" Will asked, standing before her in the water.

She rested her forehead on his shoulder.

"Better."

And all of her problems went away.

Will pressed his lips to hers in a warm, chaste kiss, as the cool water relaxed her lower half. It was the most comfortable she'd been all week.

Will swam away, further out across the lake, and Emma grinned as the warm breeze caressed her flushed face.

With a hand on her swollen abdomen, Emma sighed, floating as best she could in the water.

Soon, everything would change.

AN: I hope everyone has enjoyed reading this little future piece. I really enjoyed writing it, so I would love to hear what you thought of it.

There should be a new fic out soon, which I've mentioned before, so keep an eye out for that.

I'd like to thank fadedglass and logicallychaotic for their advice and input into Just Like That. They are both fabulous writers whose work I really admire. If you haven't already, check out their stories. I've never been so engrossed in fanfic before!

To everyone who has ever reviewed Just Like That, thank you so much. I write for you.


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